


Not The Villain You Expected, The Villain You Deserve

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Nudity, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: It's dedication day at the Metro Man museum, and intrepid television reporter Roxanne Ritchi has been abducted.But not by the person she expected.A battle is fought and won.And an unexpected savior sets out in search of justice.
Relationships: Megamind & Roxanne Ritchi, Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi
Comments: 77
Kudos: 115





	1. The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, gentle reader, to a tale of 'what if...?'
> 
> What if someone other than Megamind abducted Roxanne Ritchi?
> 
> What if the climactic battle between Megamind and Metro Man never happened?
> 
> What if Roxanne needs a different kind of hero?

The understated throaty rumble of a painstakingly tuned V-8 engine announced the impending arrival of the invisible car in the Evil Lair, banks of bright fluorescent lights high overhead snapping to life as automated switches closed with echoing ‘clacks' to illuminate the long, cavernous tunnel leading from the holographic illusion that concealed the entrance to the garage and vehicle maintenance area of the supposedly long-abandoned factory in the lakeshore industrial outskirts of Metro City.

A shoal of cyclopean bear-trap-jawed brain-bots ‘bowg'-ed in discordant chorus, spidery metallic appendages dangling below them, accompanying the vehicle as its invisibility feature was deactivated, revealing a sleekly villainous fin-adorned automobile with a gleaming black paint job and bodylines that had started life as an original 1951 Hudson Hornet, now extensively customized and ornamented with tastefully excessive chrome accents.

Grinning in anticipation, the skin of his bulbous blue cranium still gleaming from the epidermal polishers, Megamind, incredibly handsome criminal genius and master of all villainy in Metro City, almost skipped in delight towards the ebony conveyance, his black cape flowing perfectly behind him as his best (only) friend switched off the engine.

A flick of black leather gloved fingertips over his black eyebrows and narrow, precisely trimmed goatee to insure they were impeccably groomed (because presentation mattered), and Megamind hurriedly motioned Minion to exit the vehicle with the rather attractive form of their frequent involuntarily guest, one Roxanne Ritchi of Channel 8 News, so he could trigger his latest malevolent scheme to finally attain mastery over Metro City.

Adopting a properly intimidating villainous pose, Megamind waited for his robot-gorilla exo-suit wearing hench-fish to alight from the car.

And waited.

And waited.

Minion, an extra-terrestrial example of piscine convergent evolution, encased in the hardened tempered glass dome that occupied the space where the robot-gorilla’s head should have been, fidgeted, the fingers of his wonderfully dexterous mechanical hands tapping nervously on the upper rim of the hard black plastic circumference of the steering wheel, wide brown eyes darting anxiously, looking anywhere but at his employer. 

Rolling his almost luminous acid green eyes and exhaling a long-suffering huff of exasperation, both arms hanging limply from his shoulders, Megamind stomped over to the driver's side window as it whirred down at Minion's touch.

“Minion?”, Megamind inquired, voice gone syrupy-soft, left arm casually draped on the roof of the car.

Still seat-belted into the driver's seat, tips of his metallic index fingers nervously tapping almost musically together, the alien fish-analog glanced up at Megamind guiltily. “Sir?” 

“Would it be exceedingly tedious and annoying to ask why you haven’t assisted Miss Ritchi out of the invisible car, according to the plan?”

“Do you promise not to lose your temper or yell at me, Sir?”, Minion requested. “You know I don’t like it when you yell.”

Right fist on his hip, Megamind tipped his huge head forward, as if to look at the smooth oil-stained concrete floor, which he couldn’t, because his eyes were closed. “I promise I will not lose my temper or yell at you, Minion.”

“I haven’t helped Miss Ritchi out of the car because she's not actually in the car”, Minion explained, fanged mouth grinning nervously, his robot hands indicating precisely where the nosy reporter wasn’t.

“Ah.” Black leather clad fingertips drummed briefly on the roof of the invisible car.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the silence.

“You do realize that without Miss Ritchi, we can’t proceed with the rest my plan to conquer Metrocity, don’t you?”, Megamind said far too calmly for Minion's liking as he opened his eyes. “That we will have built a painstaking replica of the abandoned astronomical observatory atop the Evil Lair for no reason?”

Minion stared up at his lifelong friend. “I am completely aware of that, Sir.”

“Excellent, Minion”, Megamind smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. “We're making progress. Now then, would you mind telling me exactly why we do not currently have Miss Ritchi in our evil clutches?”

Minion swallowed. Or appeared to. It was a nervous habit he had developed when he was about to relay unpleasant or unwelcome news.

“Miss Ritchi wasn’t at the dedication of the Metro Man museum”, Minion explained. “I drove around the perimeter of the entire block, and even managed to drive invisibly through the crowd looking for her and that brillo-haired camera-man she works with. And all of the on-site disguised brain-bots we had planted in the crowd reported no sign of Miss Ritchi.”

Megamind absently patted the roof of the invisible car twice, thoughts racing. “I see", he nodded reasonably. “Did you call Channel 8 to enquire as to Miss Ritchi's whereabouts?”

A whole-body nod from Minion atop the robot-gorilla exo-suit. “First thing I did when I couldn’t find her, Sir. She and her camera-man Hal Stewart signed out a remote broadcast van before noon and haven’t been seen since.” 

A long sigh. “Alright, Minion. We'll call this one a scratch, and try again tomorrow. Be sure to charge the orbital death ray, and reset the perimeter security system. I have no doubt that insufferable pest Metro Mahn will show up sooner or later, and I don’t want to be caught by surprise again.”

Unclipping his cape from his shoulders and handing it through the open car window to Minion, Megamind stalked away. “If you need me, I’ll be in the Relaxation Chamber. Screaming.”

*-*-*

The acrid stench of overheated metal dragged Roxanne Ritchi back to shivering, coughing, groggy awareness. She swallowed several times, vaguely aware she’d drooled on herself a bit, sitting, slouched on a hard metal folding chair.

She’d gotten careless, grown to used to the predictable, almost cliché kidnappings by Megamind or his fish-tank-headed faux-furred what-ever-it-was.

This wasn’t one of the precise, practiced, almost gentle abductions of the past few years. One big clue was her arms and legs were secured by turns of cloth reinforced gaffer tape, the good stuff used in the A/V industry that could stick power cables to bare concrete, arms bound behind her, legs taped at the ankle to the frame of the folding metal chair.

The other big clue was she was almost naked, her nice off-the-shoulder red dress with the black trim cut off her and casually, carelessly discarded like a rag on the dusty bare concrete floor, leaving her wearing just a beige strapless bra, hip-hugging white boyshorts, and sheer black thigh high stockings.

Blue eyes blinking, Roxanne looked around, trying in vain to figure out where she was. Late afternoon light from outside flooded the space she was in, too large to be a room, the perimeter of the chamber remarkable for the tall windows on every side. The lack of any drywall, wall coverings, or carpet, draped sheets of near-transparent plastic and dust-coated industrial scaffolding told her it was one of several possible abandoned construction projects in and around Metro City.

“Oh hey, you’re finally awake!", the annoyingly over-familiar, wobbly and slightly nasal voice announced from behind her.

She wasn’t alone in this ordeal. A small mercy tempered by the fact her pushy, handsy camera-man was her fellow abductee. “Are you alright, Hal? Stay calm. Metro Man will rescue us”, Roxanne reassured her co-worker. Her voice sounded slurred and slightly hoarse to her ears.

The sound of boots scuffing across the unfinished concrete floor, approaching from her left. She turned to look, gasping.

Hal Stewart, unharmed, blocky and obsolete shoulder-mount video camera in hand, dressed in his every-day outfit of tight, faded black jeans, geeky video-game themed tee-shirt, and habitually un-zipped khaki multi-pocketed photographer vest. Roxanne watched apprehensively as Hal mounted the camera on a field tripod, aiming the lens at her.

“What’s going on, Hal?”, the chestnut-haired reporter demanded.

“Well, you got kidnapped. Again.” Hal’s ingratiating grin was unpleasantly predatory. “It was that blue creep, Megamind. And he had like, fifty ninjas helping him this time. I tried to fight them off, but he used that ray gun of his on the van, and I had to like fight off the ninjas, but they were too much for me.”

“What?!”

“Of course, I’m so traumatised by the incident of seeing my respected co-worker being kidnapped that I just have to move out of state”, the copper-haired camera jockey smiled malevolently.

Roxanne was panting, on the verge of panic. “Why are you doing this?!“

“This wouldn't have happened if you’d just dumped that flying douchebag!”, Hal accused, middle-parted red curls bobbing slightly as he ranted. “I had it all planned out! Even had the wedding photographer lined up! We would have been like, the perfect couple!”

“Hal, it’s not too late to stop this!”, Roxanne bargained desperately, blue eyes darting around the large room, stalling for time. Metro Man would be here soon.

“Oh, it’s happening, sis.”, Hal nodded, smirking. Adjusting the focus, he peered at her semi-nude form through the viewfinder. The red light indicating the camera was recording blinked on.

Cheeks flaming in silent shame, Roxanne looked away, unable to face her former co-worker.

The recording light blinked off after a handful of minutes that felt like an eternity. 

“This is pretty tame, don’tcha think, Roxaroo?”, Hal taunted. “Whaddaya say we spice things up a bit?”

“What did you do to me?”, the reporter quailed. 

“It was so easy”, her abductor bragged. “After that hospital security mismanagement piece we did a few weeks ago, I just walked outa there with a portable anesthetic unit and some of this Ultane knockout stuff. They didn’t even lock it up!”

“You drugged me?!” Roxanne felt a spark of outrage ignite beneath her shame.

Hal laughed, arrogantly. “One quick whiff and you were out, sis! I kept you gassed while I messed with the van so that blue freak takes the heat.”

“You won’t get away with this, Hal!”, Roxanne snarled, defiant.

Her former camera-man pulled a slim object out of his hip pocket, the bright blade of a spring-assisted knife flicking open in his hand. “Actually, I think I will. No-one will hear you scream. Your boyfriend Metro Man is too busy with his adoring fans at the museum, and Mega-dweeb takes the fall!”

“Hal, don’t! Please!”

“I’m a nice guy, Roxy!”, Hal barked petulantly, stalking towards her. “You shoulda been with me! You shoulda been nicer to me!”

Flinching, leaning as far back from Hal as she practically could in the uncomfortable chair, Roxanne twitched when the rogue camera-man tugged on her bra, slipping the knife blade between lacy fabric and her skin, sawing at the foundation garment until the cloth parted raggedly, Hal pulling the ruined bra away from her, tossing it dismissively atop her similarly destroyed dress.

“Nice!”, Hal leered at her exposed breasts, folding his knife, returning to the bulky video camera. “I think I’ll let you keep the stockings, Roxy.”

She shivered at the unspoken implication.

*-*-*

A fitful night's disturbed sleep had left Megamind groggy and unfocused, a vague sense of ill-defined unease that something was just not right with the world. To the point he forgot he still had very minty toothpaste in his mouth as he took a distracted gulp of orange juice Minion had freshly squeezed for him.

Gagging, gasping at the incredibly sour taste, Megamind shoved the tumbler away from himself, across the immaculate polished black granite countertop Minion had insisted upon for the Evil Lair's modest but thoroughly equipped kitchen and breakfast island he was presently seated at, watching it slide gracefully off the edge to shatter and spill on the black and white reclaimed vintage linoleum tile floor, earning him a disappointed glare from his finny friend whose robot-gorilla body sported a yellow flower decorated bib apron in vibrant pink that bore the legend ‘Kiss the Cook' in cheerful bright blue lettering in a white oval.

“Sir, if you’d prefer apple juice this morning, I’d appreciate it if you’d use your words", Minion gently admonished as the toothy brain-bots on kitchen detail cleaned up the puddle of juice and jagged broken glass, ‘bowg'-ing quietly in indifferent enthusiasm.

“No, no, the naranje juice was fine", Megamind nodded. “It just didn’t play nicely with Mister Fresh'n'Minty toothpaste.”

“Bleh!”, Minion sympathized, recoiling slightly in his head tank and sticking out his tongue. Although he didn’t have the same kind of complex taste receptors bipeds seemed so proud of, he did understand the experience of intense unpleasant bitter flavor.

“Has there been any news on Miss Ritchi’s disappearance?”, his master inquired tentatively, blue fingers lightly tapping the countertop as he watched Minion preparing his breakfast over a refurbished natural gas stove converted to burn the plentiful methane generated by Metro City’s sewer and sanitation system.

“I’m afraid not, Sir", Minion informed Megamind as he deftly added a mechanical handful of freshly shredded mozzarella and sharp cheddar cheese to the egg mixture in the heated cast iron skillet. “The Channel 8 intranet has been very quiet on the subject. And there’s been no recent missing persons report for Miss Ritchi to the police either.”

Megamind banged a blue fist on the countertop, rattling the cutlery that had been laid out for him. “This is intolerable! It’s unprofessional and it’s completely thrown off our shed-yool!”, he complained loudly.

“Well, before you head out to determine what’s going on, Sir, you have to eat", Minion advised, plating the still steaming mixed vegetable and cheese omelet and placing it in front of Megamind along with a bottle of banana ketchup. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

While he wouldn’t admit it to his face, Minion's talent in the kitchen outclassed the culinary nightmare that was the cafeteria in the Prison for the Criminally Gifted easily by an order of magnitude. The prison where Megamind had been raised by the inmates after crash landing in an interstellar escape pod mere days after being born. The same penitentiary his nemesis Metro Man so frequently deposited him after some of his less-than-spectacularly-successful schemes had been foiled.

Megamind mused on his past, contemplated his present situation, and speculated about future plans simultaneously, distractedly consuming the meal Minion had prepared, cheek propped up in his left hand, elbow on the counter.

“Be sure to put your jam-jams and housecoat in the basket, Sir", Minion reminded his azure taskmaster. “It is laundry day.”

“Stop being such a mother hen, Minion", Megamind advised with a droll smile, pushing his mostly empty, banana ketchup-smeared plate towards his loyal underling.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen", Minion quietly deadpanned to Megamind's retreating back as he collected the used plate from the countertop.

*-*-*

Megamind double-checked the contents of the hoverbike’s hard-shell panniers for the third time, made sure the spare disguise watch was buckled securely in place on his left wrist, and confirmed the breakaway thumb strap on the De-gun holster was properly fastened. Paying attention to the details, especially regarding safety, had almost saved him from complete disaster more than once.

This was going to be one of the more infrequent and uncommon stealth operations instead of the usual grandiose spectacles the inhabitants of Metro City had come to expect from their resident criminal mastermind. Substance over style, infiltration instead of presentation.

Frankly, it was embarrassing, having to sneak about like a common burglar, just to ascertain the whereabouts of one wayward reporter so he could properly kidnap her to get his complex plot to rule Metro City underway.

He’d chosen to dress down today, almost incognito as far as he was concerned. Black military fatigue pants with numerous pockets (so very useful for storing dehydrated witnesses), a light turtleneck knitwear sweater in black over a cobalt blue tee-shirt (with concealed ballistic mesh insert), black Doc Marten Suffolk leather Chelsea boots, and a classic black leather biker jacket with two rows of chromed spike studs on each epaulet.

Swinging his leg over the wide fuselage of the hoverbike, Megamind kickstarted the multi-cylinder radial engine to life, spinning up the dynamo that powered the lift and propulsion systems, throttling up with a roar as the hoverbike gained altitude above the Evil Lair.

Staying at rooftop height as he headed east over the lake, Megamind then swung south in the direction of downtown and Metro Tower, staying in the surface clutter of the high-rise buildings to mask his approach from the local airport radar. He didn’t want to be intercepted before he reached the broadcast antenna atop the tallest building for miles in any direction.

Using the magnetic landing grapples, Megamind touched down on the narrow circumference of the antenna access platform, retrieving a complex electronic device from the right-side pannier, connecting it via a convenient interface port on the casing of the antenna switching controller.

Flipping a switch on the device, Megamind was now broadcasting on every radio, television, and cable channel for a hundred miles in every direction.

“Greetings, Metrocity!”, the criminal genius announced himself. “I thinks it’s absolutely wonderful I have a captive audience to announce the complete and utter disgrace of the failure you know as… Metro Mahn!”

High above the city, Megamind had no way to see the expression on any of the faces of the population, yet he knew they were hanging on his every word.

“Yesterday, during the dedication of the Metro Mahn museum, Miss Roxanne Ritchi was foully abducted! And instead of flying to the aid of his paramour, your so-called ‘hero’ didn’t even notice she was missing because he was too busy basking in the saccharine adoration of his audience!”, Megamind declared into his microphone, green eyes alert as he scanned for a blur of white costume speeding towards him.

Fringed knee-high white boots descended silently behind Megamind, followed by a snow-white cape draped over the shoulders of a powerful, muscular frame.

“I never imagined you’d stoop to radio piracy!”, Metro Man tutted. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Megamind smirked, turning to face his lifelong nemesis. “How very treacherous, Metro Mahn, sneaking up on your foe from behind. Hardly the actions of a hero.”

“What have you done with Roxanne, you fiend?”, Metro City’s paragon demanded, theatrically jabbing an accusatory finger at Megamind.

Arms crossed in casual defiance, Megamind spoke insolently into his microphone. “Nothing. I haven’t harmed a hair on her head. Because I’m not the one who kidnapped Miss Ritchi yesterday. But it does raise the question of why you of all people failed to notice Miss Ritchi's absence from your little soiree. She is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Megamind caught the flicker of hesitation on Metro Man's handsome features, raising a smug eyebrow in triumph.

Doubt. 

Raising the microphone to his lips, Megamind asked the question. “Who are you going to trust, Metrocity, when your hero doesn’t even notice when someone he supposedly cares about is missing?”

Megamind finally released the transmit button.

“Your move, Wayne.”

Metro Man drifted backwards. His cape flickered as he spun in the air, fluttering as he flew away at high speed.


	2. Home is Where the Heart Hides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post abduction aftercare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took longer to do than I expected.

Roxanne Ritchi, intrepid reporter for Metro City's Channel 8 News, was miserable.

She was cold. So incredibly cold. Sleeping, if you could call it that, had been almost impossible, propped up in an unyielding steel folding chair in the middle of an unheated concrete shell of a building, arms and legs cramping from having been restrained in one position for hours.

And thirsty. God, so thirsty. That bastard Hal hadn’t even let her rinse out her mouth after he’d forced her at knifepoint to… She refused to think about that. But the memory of what he'd made her do lurked there in the back of her mind, an unwelcome shadow.

Once Hal was finished with her, he just…left. Walked out. Shoved the cassette of her humiliation into one of the capacious pockets in his photographer’s vest, packed up the bulky video camera and it’s tripod, and departed with nothing more than a lascivious smirk as a farewell.

Roxanne was unshakably certain that there were rats living in the abandoned construction project. She thought she’d heard them squeaking and scuttling in the dark last night.

She hated rats.

The thought of them finding her, of them biting…

She was panting, terrified, on the ragged, bright edge of a screaming panic attack.

‘Please, please, please, please somebody find me', Roxanne silently begged, afraid if she started screaming the rats would certainly find her. ‘Metro Man, Wayne, where are you?’

She needed to pee in the worst way…

*-*-*

Engine of the hoverbike rumbling quietly, Megamind, master of all villainy in Metro City, methodically cruised above the city, knowing most of the inhabitants rarely looked up. Flying fifty feet higher than the average rooftop, he was unlikely to be spotted by a casual observer glancing out their window at the passing sound while he searched for Miss Ritchi.

It was, of course, a brilliant idea. Nothing like his usual flamboyant undertakings, but nonetheless a product of his genius, a relatively compact device that imitated the telecommunications network's signal to initiate the response from any particular cellular telephone and it’s specific and unique device Global Positioning System identification number.

Using the device, Megamind would be able to pinpoint Miss Ritchi’s location to within thirty feet.

All he had to do was find her. One (very attractive) needle in a considerable haystack.

*-*-*

Minion quietly hummed to himself, only occasionally breaking out into song as a fragment of verse flitted through his mind as he dusted and tidied the Evil Lair's archive, careful not to actually disturb any of the contents Megamind might actually be using for research or reminiscing over, particularly the well-handled manila folder containing of their painstakingly gathered information on Miss Ritchi.

It’s not that Minion thought Miss Ritchi was unattractive. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the greenish-brown alien piscine-oid was rather fond of the determined journalist, admiring her tenacity and wit, especially the way she would engage in playful banter during her frequent abductions. He really should launder the Egyptian cotton pillowcase so frequently used to cover her head and obscure her vision. As a courtesy, you understand. Minion made a mental note to ask about any scent allergies or chemical sensitivities she might have the next time he saw her.

“I’m goin' off the rails on a crazy train…”, Minion vocalized to himself as he clanked out of the archive, rather pleased with his idea. 

*-*-*

The sooty plume of black, oily smoke was what caught Megamind’s attention, rising into the air like an omen.

Closer examination from a reasonably cautious distance, viewed through an enhanced optical magnification device of his own design revealed the charred remains of an incompetently vandalized Channel 8 News remote transmission van, tongues of petrochemical fueled flames licking hungrily out of shattered windows.

Several hand-sized ragged holes had been clumsily cut into the bodywork with an acetylene torch to simulate the damage that might possibly be interpreted as having been caused by a De-gun on the proper setting. But only if you were an idiot.

Setting fire to the vehicle almost twenty-four hours after the abduction was a rookie mistake, no doubt intended to destroy potential evidence and give the perpetrator a head start in a pathetic attempt to evade justice. 

As much as the idea revolted him, Megamind had to take a closer look to be sure that Miss Ritchi was not being cremated in the vehicular conflagration. When he was within a dozen yards of the improvised pyre, Megamind adjusted the settings of his multi-view goggles by touch to literally see through the metal walls of the truck into the heart of the inferno.

There was no evidence of Miss Ritchi within the burning van.

Idly, he wondered why no fire engines or rescue personnel had arrived on scene yet. It wasn’t as if the neighborhood in the vicinity was a hotbed of criminal activity.

“This is what happens when you always depend on someone else to save you", Megamind scornfully observed aloud to the empty street, returning to his search of the city for the missing tele-journalist.

Several blocks southeast of the burning Channel 8 van, Megamind’s cell-phone tracer got a responding ping. Flying a figure-eight on the hoverbike to triangulate the signal, Megamind eventually determined the source to be a six story building supposedly under construction behind an ineffectual cordon of temporary fencing. The lack of any of the common machinery or laborers one would expect to see on a building site was confirmation the project was at least temporarily abandoned.

Roxanne Ritchi waited somewhere within the deserted structure. Or her cell-phone did.

There was only one way to find out.

Landing on the roof of the unfinished structure, Megamind pried the temporary plywood barrier to the stairwell aside, De-gun in his right hand, a small flashlight in his left, cautiously descending the stairs, methodically searching each floor, working his way down to the ground floor.

The sight that greeted him there was appalling.

Holstering the De-gun, Megamind swung wide of the figure rudely secured to the common folding steel chair, approaching from a direction where he could be easily seen.

“Can you hear me, Miss Ritchi?”, the prison-hardened criminal inquired hesitantly.

After a moment, Roxanne lifted her head, the conflicting emotions in her blue eyes wrenching at Megamind’s conscience. The confusion, doubt, betrayal, and startlingly, relief that flickered across the face that had so often shown good-natured scorn and playful mockery in their numerous interactions.

“Megamind?” Disbelief in Miss Ritchi's voice.

“Quite the predicament you’re in", Megamind replied more calmly than he felt, squatting on his heels so he could look her in the eye, unwilling to tower over the restrained and vulnerable woman, pointedly ignoring her present state of undress. “I’m going to have to cut the tape to get you free, and I might have to touch you. Is that alright?”

Roxanne nodded, chestnut pixie cut bobbing. “Please hurry. I can’t feel my fingers.”

Removing a paramedic seatbelt cutter from its sheath on his belt, Megamind slipped the tip of the blunt hook between Roxanne's left ankle and the leg of the chair, a firm tug pulling the razor-sharp cutting edge through the wrapped layers of adhesive tape, then peeling the binding free of the chair leg, releasing the trapped limb.

Roxanne groaned in relief as Megamind gently helped straighten her leg, then repeated the procedure with her right leg.

“Lean forward please “, Megamind quietly requested. 

Roxanne whimpered in discomfort as her azure-skinned rescuer lifted her arms slightly, her shoulders protesting at the uncomfortable upward flexion. A pair of awkward tugs and the layers of tape closest to her back were severed, her arms released from the unpleasant position, and more tugging cuts completed freeing her.

Gently assisting Roxanne flex her hands and wrists to restore feeling and circulation, Megamind silently assessed her overall condition. Mild dehydration, exposure with possible mild hypothermia, exhaustion, and sleep deprivation.

Seeing her shiver, probably from a combination of chill and anxiety, Megamind shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it around Roxanne's shoulders, providing some warmth and a measure of restored modesty.

“Thank you", Roxanne said, heartfelt.

“The hoverbike is on the roof, six floors up, if you think you can make it", Megamind pointed out, on one knee beside the frightened reporter. “Or I can have Minion here with the invisible car in twenty minutes”, he offered.

“What about flying the hoverbike down here?”, Roxanne suggested, brushing chestnut bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t think I’m up to climbing stairs right now.”

Megamind’s voice wasn't it’s usual boisterous conviviality. “Will you be alright while I go and get it?”

A bobbing nod of short chestnut hair. “Yeah.”

Roxanne pulled the leather jacket, Megamind's jacket, closer around herself as her unexpected savior ascended the stairs two steps at a time, running.

The muted rumble of a multi-cylinder engine moments later, the two-by-two frame plywood doors to the ground floor thrown aside, prevented from closing by whatever was at hand to act as expedient doorstops.

Megamind gathered the tattered remnants of her clothes in a common plastic shopping bag, walking beside her as Roxanne picked her unsteady way across the bare concrete floor to the idling hoverbike parked just beyond the wooden doors. He shoved the bag and it’s contents into the left-hand pannier, then helped Roxanne straddle the unusual vehicle before settling behind her.

“Where am I taking you?”

Roxanne finally released the terrified, exhausted breath she'd been holding. “Home.”

The hoverbike lifted from the ground, the rumbling note of the radial engine oddly reassuring as they flew over the city, Roxanne noting but not comprehending the thin plume of greasy black smoke that would have led her to the flickering embers of a burnt out Channel 8 van.

You wouldn't expect to be able to park a machine the size of the hoverbike on her patio balcony, but somehow Megamind did it with flair, and room for them to move afterwards. He lifted an ebony eyebrow, making no comment when he opened the unlocked patio doors, swinging them wide.

“Why bother when I get kidnapped like clockwork?”, Roxanne shrugged, a faint smirk on her lips, a suggestion of her old feistiness.

Megamind frowned, childish annoyance. “I am not predictable.”

“Uh-huh…”, the rescued damsel quietly mocked as she entered her apartment, stepping past him, her bare bottom peeking at him from beneath the edge of his leather jacket.

Megamind paused on the threshold. “Will you be alright?”

“I need a shower.”

The city's most notorious inhabitant crossed his arms, leaning against the door jamb. “Its amazing, you know?”

Roxanne sighed, annoyed. She just want a shower and to sleep for a week. At least. “What is?”

“After all you’ve been through and you still manage to dodge the question”, Megamind smirked.

“Don't be an ass", the reporter growled.

“At least let me help get the tape off you", Megamind offered, good-naturedly. “Honestly, you’d think it was amateur hour. Using gaffer tape.”

Roxanne smiled at the protectively offended tone in his voice. “Oh, alright.” She almost collapsed onto her vintage modern red couch.

“I’ll need rubbing alcohol, oh-leeve oil, and Que-tips if you have them", the blue-skinned alien nodded. 

“Olive oil is in the kitchen, everything else upstairs in the medicine cabinet above the sink. And no snooping!”, Roxanne sighed, head back, eyes closed. 

Megamind returned a few minutes later with the needed supplies, as well as a towel for Roxanne to drape over herself while Megamind sat on the floor and set to work, starting with the tape around her ankles.

It took the better part of an hour's careful, painstaking effort to remove the layers of gaffer's tape that had bonded to the skin of Roxanne's arms and legs, and she found the expression of intense concentration on Megamind's face during the process endearing and calming.

Megamind tossed the last piece of crumpled tape aside. “Well, no chance of recovering any forensic evidence now…”, he frowned in annoyance. “And your stockings are beyond help, I’m afraid.”

Roxanne hooked her thumbs into the top of the right stocking, pushing it down off her leg, doing the same with the second, wadding them up, tying them in a knot and throwing them in the direction of the kitchen garbage can, and missing.

She huffed in frustration.

Megamind had moved, leaning back against the front of the couch, near Roxanne without encroaching on her personal space, left hand holding his right wrist, arms looped around his drawn up knees, legs crossed at the ankle, staring out the open patio doors.

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime", Megamind nodded, carefully neutral.

“I’m going to take that shower now", Roxanne said. “I…I wouldn’t be upset if you were still here when I’m done.”

Another careful blue nod.

Roxanne stood up, wrapping the towel more securely around herself as Megamind deliberately looked in the other direction.

Waiting until he could hear the shower running, Megamind activated his miniaturized wrist-mounted communications device. “Code: Miss Ritchi is safe!”

“Code: Excellent news, Sir!”, came the cheerful reply.

*-*-*

Roxanne almost managed to not start shaking until she got the shower started.

Curled up in the back of the tub, arms wrapped around herself, hot water sluicing through her hair and running over her skin, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel warm or safe enough ever again. A thin, hurt animal whine keened out of her throat, teeth clenched, eyes staring unseeing at the water swirling down the drain.

A while later, a tap on the bathroom door. “Miss Ritchi?”

Megamind.

Roxanne blinked, coming back to the world, futilely wiping at tears rinsed away by the shower.

“I made you some chicken soup”, he announced. No effort to enter the bathroom, no attempt to coerce her to come out. Just…courtesy. 

Roxanne uncurled herself, reaching forward to stop the shower and turn off the water. Her fingers had gone all prunes. She hated that. A fluffy white bathsheet had her dried off quickly, her hair a tousled disarray. The mirror was fogged. It didn’t matter. She didn't want to look at herself anyway.

Dressed in a baggy grey tee-shirt and loose drawstring track pants, Roxanne padded barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen, opening a cupboard to retrieve a bottle of whiskey. Another cupboard yielded two squat cut glass tumblers. Carrying the tumblers and alcohol to the dinette table where she infrequently dined, usually alone. Faint wisps of savory vapor wafted up from the bowl that awaited her.

Roxanne poured two fingers of the potent spirit in each short glass, pushed one towards Megamind.

Blue fingers nudged the tumbler ever so slightly away. “Thank you, but no.” His De-gun in its holster lay on the table within casual reach.

“Oh, so you’ll kidnap me, but I’m not good enough to share a drink with?!”, Roxanne snapped.

The tips of Megamind's ears turned a pale violet. “It’s not that, Miss Ritchi, and please believe me, I’m honored by your offer. But…alcohol. It makes me violently…ill.”

Roxanne blinked. “What?”

“I’m an alien, Miss Ritchi", Megamind smirked. “My magnificent blue epidermis is usually enough for most people to understand that.”

A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apple-ogise, Miss Ritchi", Megamind nodded.

Three gulps and the whiskey in Roxanne's glass was gone with a whuffing exhalation and grimace. She glared at the single ebony eyebrow raised in silent judgement, then reached across the table and very deliberately retrieved the untouched tumbler in front of Megamind.

“Have some of your soup first", he suggested.

Roxanne lifted the bowl with both hands, blew briefly on the broth, sipping. 

The odd hominess of the situation, two individuals of wildly divergent backgrounds, sitting at her small table sharing a very simple meal, was inexplicably reassuring to Roxanne. The silence between them was there, but not strained.

“I’m curious, Miss Ritchi", Megamind said, minutely adjusting the position of the spoon in front of him with a fingertip.

Looking at him over the rim of her bowl, his carefully neutral expression, Roxanne nodded to continue.

“Why didn’t Metro Mahn, your superhero boyfriend, rescue you?”

Roxanne sighed, setting her bowl down, looking away, wondering if she was too sober to answer that question. She was. The second tumbler of whiskey joined the first, the cool glass pressed against her forehead.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Megamind’s silent ‘Ooooh' of understanding was comical. She grinned.

“Everyone assumed we were a thing”, she shrugged. “Even you.”

“A most convenient deception", Megamind nodded. “It no doubt afforded you a measure of respect and protection from unwanted advances, and enabled you to advance in your career.”

Another shrug. “Mostly. With a couple of exceptions.”

The look of…not guilt. Misgivings would be a better word, was unexpected. “I…I hope none of our flirtatious banter during our various encounters caused you any offence, Miss Ritchi.”

Roxanne poured herself another two fingers of whiskey. “If I’d been offended, I would’ve told you so”, she said before taking a sip of the smoky liquid.

He sat there, silent, hands gripping the table edge, right index finger tapping softly in contemplation.

Silence.

Megamind moved to stand. “I should be going“, he explained.

“Stay!” The raw desperation in Roxanne’s voice was a lance through Megamind’s heart. “I…I don’t think I want to be alone. Not right now.”

Megamind settled back into his seat. “Alright.”

“I’m too sober, or not drunk enough, and I don’t want to be able to think right now", Roxanne explained in a rush. “I just want to curl up and hide from the world with—with someone I trust.”

Megamind was more than a little confused. “You…trust me.” Doubt in his tone. 

Roxanne nodded. “You never lied to me, and you never hurt me.”

A measured nod of the large blue cranium, unsure whether this was a trick. “How can I be of assistance, Miss Ritchi?”

“Could we watch a movie together?”

Megamind nodded. “Did you have one in mind?”

“The Princess Bride", Roxanne said, leaning on her right hand which lay on her shoulder, both elbows on the table, left hand holding her whiskey glass high. The picture of morose introspection.

“On one condition", Megamind agreed. “No more alcohol tonight.”

*-*-* 

The odd pair settled on her couch at either end, her under a duvet retrieved from her bedroom, him giving her space. Shortly after Westley disappeared and Buttercup locked herself in her room, Roxanne sidled close to Megamind, leaning against his slender frame.

“Would you put your arm around me?”

Megamind regarded Roxanne levelly. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. 

Megamind tugged the duvet up over her shoulders, snugging her in before laying his arm over her, comforting, non-possessive.

A quiet little sigh. Relief. Comfort.

A chase. Swordfights. Betrayal. Deception. 

Megamind was entranced.

Count Rugen offended his villainous sensibilities. Yes, the man was a genius when it came to diabolical devices, but the casual cruelty was egregious. And Prince Humperdink?

Megamind wanted to slap him.

With typhoon cheese.

Megamind huffed, annoyed. 

Roxanne shifted, half asleep. “Hmm?”

Left hand palm up, Megamind gestured at the credits as they scrolled up the screen to the soulful guitar of Marc Knopfler. “This bad guy, Dread Pirate Roberts. He defeats Prince Humperdink, and the good and virtuous Buttercup rides off into the sunset with him! They kiss at the end! It makes no sense! He's the bad guy!”

Roxanne wondered silently when she'd slipped her arm around Megamind's hips, softly embracing him. “Just because he's a ‘bad guy' doesn’t mean he's a bad guy. He never killed anyone without a very good reason, and he respects Buttercup. I mean, look at Humperdink, how he treated everyone around him. He was awful!” She yawned mightily. “You can watch more TV if you want. Just keep the volume down.”

Megamind stiffened for a moment as Roxanne settled her head in his lap, using his legs as a pillow, her own legs drawn up on the couch. Her breathing slowed, and she was asleep in moments.

Right thumb flicking through the dozens of cable channels, Megamind propped his head up on his left hand, pondering the implications of what Roxanne had said. A ‘bad guy' didn’t have to be a bad guy.

Roxanne stirred some time later, blue eyes blinking at the soft golden light pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows of her corner loft apartment common area slash living room. 

“What time is it?” The inside of her mouth felt furry.

Megamind consulted the disguise watch. “Just after dawn. How are you feeling?”

The duvet slumped into Roxanne’s lap as she levered herself into a sitting position. “Hungover. No, you don’t get to say ‘I told you so!’ It was a special situation.”

Megamind stood, stretching after having been immobile for so long, his joints popping quietly. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

“I’m gonna call in sick to work, then go back to bed", Roxanne shook her head negative. 

“I’ll be on my way then", Megamind excused himself.

“Megamind?” 

The question in her voice caught him as he opened the patio door. He raised an eyebrow in her direction. She looked utterly adorable, vulnerable in a soft way he’d never seen before, her chestnut hair tousled, standing there in rumpled comfortable clothing, barefoot.

“I…I wouldn't be upset if you checked in on me. Later.”

Megamind swung a leg over the hoverbike.

“As you wish", he smiled.


	3. Laying Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while since I posted a chapter, but I think we all know reality has been rather a trial of late.
> 
> Do enjoy!

A week passed before Roxanne Ritchi reappeared at the headquarters of the network affiliate WMCN, locally known as Channel 8.

She only scattered the pens on her desk twice after walking past the remote transmission vans remaining in the company parking lot, pointedly ignoring the surreptitious looks of sympathy or worse, veiled disgust from her co-workers she caught out of the corner of her eye.

Lynn from the weather desk glanced up from beneath her long curly brunette mane, one eyebrow raised in silent inquiry at Roxanne when she slammed the door of the microwave harder than she intended while she warmed her mug prior to pouring coffee in it.

“I’m guessing the meeting with inhuman resources didn’t go so well", Lynn ventured as Roxanne sat across from her, back to the small kitchen area so she could keep an eye on the open door to the lunchroom.

Roxanne fought down the urge to hurl her mug at the wall. “With Hal quitting and moving away, the company says there’s no point in going after him, and it’s his word against mine. In fact, if I make too many waves, I’m out of a job myself!”, she vented quietly, fidgeting with the handle of her mug, unsure what to do with her hands. “Oh, they were very polite about it, very conciliatory, but, and it’s a big one, I have until mid-week to come up with a new feature story, or I’m gone.”

Intense green eyes stared at Roxanne over the rim of Lynn's signature extra-large insulated stainless steel coffee mug known in the newsroom as ‘The Tank', not just for its size and construction. “You. Are. Fucking. With. Me!”

Roxanne shook her head negative, slowly, decisively.

‘The Tank' thumped on the lunchroom tabletop. “That’s disgusting!”

A defeated shrug, Roxanne gazing unseeing at the table top. 

“Somebody has to do something!”, Lynn exclaimed, offended on Roxanne's behalf. “I mean, it’s not like management didn’t know Hal was a creeper to half of the staff!”

“Out of my hands”, Roxanne shook her head. “Corporate calls the shots on this.”

Across the table, green eyes glowered from beneath dark ringlets. “What’re you gonna do?”

A watery, unsure grin answered Lynn. “In no particular order, probably be violently ill, spend another half hour shaking in my car, pretend to be motivated about keeping my job, and go home.”

*-*-*

Apartment door firmly shut and securely fastened behind her, Roxanne Ritchi leaned heavily against the solid slab of wood, trying not to tremble, almost succeeding. She need a distraction, something, anything to keep her mind off what had happened to her, what Hal had done to her.

Maybe a stroll through the Metro Man museum.

She frowned. 

Maybe not the best idea. Too much of a reminder that the one time she really needed saving, Wayne Scott had utterly failed to appear, which had resulted in the one person she hadn’t expected to come to her rescue.

Pushing off the door with a sigh, shoulders slumped, Roxanne trudged deeper into her apartment. 

“Home, sweet ho—aaah!”

“Good evening, Miss Ritchi!”, Minion grinned toothily in his domed fish-tank head, robot gorilla feet clanking on her kitchen floor as he greeted her, stirring the gently steaming contents of her copper-bottomed sauce pan with a wooden spoon. “Tonight’s menu is baked honey-glazed chicken with steamed broccoli au gratin.”

“How did you get in?!”, Roxanne demanded, fists clenched next to her hips.

The stirring paused as Minion pointed. “The…balcony doors? You left them unlocked again”, he explained hesitantly. “Megamind mentioned you wouldn’t mind him checking in on how you’re doing, so…”

“So you thought you’d let yourself in.” Roxanne crossed her arms, cocking her hips in passive aggression, asserting her dominance.

“I had to put the groceries away”, Minion countered, resuming his stirring. “By the way, when’s the last time you cleaned out your fridge? I think I heard something say “Zuul!” when I opened the door.”

Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger and sighed. “So where is your blue-skinned boss?”

“Megamind extends his apologies and says he’s been unavoidably detained”, the alien piscoid explained as he neatly plated Roxanne's dinner and set the dish on her small dinette table. “Bon appetit!”

Roxanne smirked as she seated herself, picking up her fork. “Another one of his cockamamie inventions to draw Metro Man out?”

Minion shook in a negative in his tank, voice mildly annoyed. “No, the Warden caught him sneaking back into the prison two days ago. He’s back in his cell for now.”

*-*-*

Megamind slumped in the throne-like high-backed rotating chair in the center of his cell, left cheek propped up on the knuckles of his left hand, the television remote in his right, thumbing through the channels, acid green eyes consuming fragments of news, entertainment, documentaries, cartoons, anything to provide the illusion of enforced tedium to the simplistic drones the Warden had assigned to monitor his confinement.

It hadn’t been a miscalculation or error that had resulted in Megamind returning to prison. He'd wanted to be captured. How else was he going to communicate with his uncles, the numerous career criminals, professionals in the underworld who had raised him, instructed him in the fine art of villainy, who would provide valuable insights and information. Being confined to a high-technology solitary confinement wouldn’t impede Megamind in the slightest. In fact, the solitude provided him the opportunity for his remarkable mind to formulate plans and extrapolate on hypothesis unhindered by petty distractions.

On cue, the iris shutter on his cell door dilated open for the cursory inspection during guard shift change and his meal delivery, which was slid through a slot on the bottom of the door, protected by a locked armored flap.

“Chow time, Two Ball", the uniformed prison lackey announced unnecessarily, stepping back from the door, warily observing as Megamind, attired in his bright orange prison issue coveralls, unwound from his seat and collected his meal.

Megamind grinned disarmingly, cheerful. “I do hope Andre in the kitchen has expanded his culinary reh-pee-twarhr! His last effort at ‘Dook Lorange’ was inexcusable.”

“Baloney on white bread for you, Megamind!”, the brown tweed-jacketed Warden glowered from behind the guard, bushy white moustache twitching. “And welcome home.”

The criminal mastermind of Metro City lifted the top slice of bread, unimpressed. “No mustard?”

The Warden scoffed. “Budget cutbacks.”

“I’m going to write a letter of complaint to my congressman about the deplorable conditions in here", Megamind smirked.

“Felons and illegal aliens can’t vote!”, the Warden reminded him smugly before turning and striding away.

Megamind returned to his chair, eating the barely palatable sandwich while digesting the coded information that had been scratched into the surface of the slice of bologna by Uncle Andre.

Roxanne’s ex co-worker and cameraman had indeed departed Metro City in an untimely manner, unpursued by the authorities, not even questioned by his former employers at Channel 8 as to the farcical excuse he’d offered before quitting. On the whole, those in positions of responsibility seemed to be relieved at the prospect of the entire incident being quietly swept under the rug and ignored or forgotten.

Hal Stewart was a bad guy. One in need of being brought to justice. 

Nodding to himself, decision made, Megamind stood up and stretched, television remote in hand. 

Facing the door to his cell, Metro City's greatest criminal mastermind pressed several specific keys in a pre-determined sequence, then three more simultaneously, finally pointing the remote at the door and pressing ‘Rewind'.

The complex electronically controlled locks snapped open, the door sliding aside as Megamind stepped over the threshold, casually pointing the remote at his astonished guards, flicking the ‘Pause' button, freezing them in place, strolling down the corridors of the Prison for the Criminally Gifted to cheers and thunderous applause of the inmates, and calmly departed the facility after retrieving his proper villainous attire and equipment from the Warden's Office, ‘pausing' any guard he encountered, before sashaying out the front gate and hiking the short distance to where he’d concealed the hover-bike in invisibility mode three days ago behind the second institution he’d been sentenced to, the Lil' Gifted School for Lil' Gifted Kids, it’s once bright red paint now faded and weathered.

Kick-starting the radial engine to life, Megamind throttled up and gained altitude, pointing the powerful vehicle in the direction of his evil lair, basking in the late afternoon sunlight.

*-*-*

The sun was a sliver of golden thumbnail on the western horizon, velvet shadows fading into purple dusk as Roxanne sat on her couch, legs tucked beside her, half watching the news on her laptop as Minion tidied the kitchen, humming cheerfully to himself, when news of Megamind's latest escape broke, the Channel 8 announcer breathless with apprehension or excitement, Roxanne not really sure which.

The doors to the patio swung open as the news continued relaying statistics on a general rise on the crime rates in Metrocity, admitting the very last person Roxanne expected to see. Or wanted to for that matter.

Minion dropped the full teapot to shatter on the floor, spreading its contents in a hot rushing flood across the hardwood as he recognised the unwelcome guest.

“Metro Man!”

The white clad superhero drifted silently above the floor, approaching the couch where Roxanne reclined.

“I didn’t say you could come in, Wayne", Roxanne sneered, crossing her arms and pointedly ignoring him.

Metro Man paused in his silent levitation. “Uhhh, yeah Roxie”, he said, glancing away, hand on the back of his neck, chagrined. “I was just…concerned Megamind might be on his way here…after his escape tonight. From prison.” A glance at Minion, who was doing his best to stay out of sight while mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the pieces of broken teapot.

“Well, you’re late again!”, Roxanne snapped, blue eyes glaring at Metro Man. “And from what I’m hearing on the news, you’ve been slacking off all over Metro City, Wayne!” 

Metro Man let out a sigh. “Look, I know I screwed up—”

“Screwed up?!” Roxanne was livid, standing abruptly, confronting the idol of Metro City. “You didn’t even notice I was missing! Megamind found me the next day, after I’d spent all night tied to a chair in a freezing building that had rats living in it! Frankly, I’m lucky to be alive!”, she screamed. 

“I know you’re upset—", Metro Man ignored her, patting the air with both hands, trying vainly to calm the visibly shaken reporter.

“Upset?! Upset?!”, Roxanne stalked from behind her coffee table, marching toward Metro Man. “Wayne, you idiot, Hal ra… he r-ra…HE RAPED ME!!”, she howled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He…he…And you! You were too busy kuh-kuh-kissing babies and showing off to your fans!”

Completely out of his depth, Metro Man drifted backwards slightly, towards the open patio doors. “Uhh…what are…what do the police say? About their investigation?”

Roxanne threw her favorite cut crystal vase at Metro Man's face to shatter in impotent shards on his invulnerable cheek, flowers and water scattering on the floor behind him. “You asshole! The cops aren’t doing anything! Hal moved away, and it’s his word against mine!”

The white clad superhero at least had the good sense to look embarrassed at Roxanne’s outburst.

“Look, Roxie, if there’s anything I can d—“, Metro Man fumbled to apologize.

“Get! Out!”, Roxanne screamed. “And my name is Roxanne!”

Metro Man looked around, as if seeing Roxanne's loft apartment for the first time, spotting Minion standing near the patio doors, holding one open in pointed invitation to depart. 

“Don’t you think it's best if you left, Wayne?”, the alien fish sneered, disdain dripping off every syllable.

Shoulders slumped, brilliant white cape hanging limp, Metro Man glided silently through the air towards the open doors, stopping abruptly when he saw who was standing on the patio, arms laden with brown paper sacks inside plastic bags.

“Megamind!”, Metro Man exclaimed in surprise.

“Wayne", the casually dressed villain nodded dismissively. “You were just leaving. Don’t let me detain you.”

“Not before I take you back to prison!”, Metro Man announced. 

“You’ll do no such thing, Wayne Scott!”, Roxanne screamed. “Get out and don’t come back!”

The smug look of vindication in Megamind's green eyes made up Metro Man's mind. Cape rippling, he flew away, vanishing behind a building.

“I brought supper", Megamind offered, hefting the plastic bags in his hands, remaining on the patio. “I hope Minion wasn’t too much of a bother.”

Roxanne sniffled, smearing her makeup as she tried to wipe away a tear. “He’s fine”, she sighed, suddenly exhausted.

“Rough day?”

The reporter nodded, limply flapping her arm in invitation. “The worst.”

Megamind nodded, stepping into Roxanne's apartment. 

“Oh, sir, not take-out! You know how the MSG upsets your tum”, Minion protested from within his head tank.

“Minion!”, the azure-skinned villain snapped. “Don’t let Miss Ritchie's nosy reporter skills entice you into giving away my weaknesses!”

“Pfft! Some weakness”, Minion scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Wing's Deluxe Chinese Cuisine on Fourth. You buy it every time the prison cafeteria serves lunchmeat.”

Ignoring his underling, Megamind began unloading bags onto Roxanne’s small dining table. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything. Beef and broccoli?”, he offered, holding up a steaming open paperboard container. 

Roxanne hicupped a laugh, padding over on bare feet. “Any lemon chicken?” She realized she was ravenous, even though she’d already eaten earlier in the evening. 

A warm container pressed into her hands, with a set of inexpensive mass-produced take-out chopsticks. 

“I’m thinking about hiring a sidekick", Megamind nodded, opening the container of steamed rice. “With your present look, you could be Trash Panda.”

Roxanne wiped away her makeup on a take-out napkin with ‘Wing's’ logo printed on it. “Jerk.”

“Movie?”, Megamind offered, chopsticks in one hand, a serving of Shanghai noodles and egg-fried rice balanced in the other. “Or are you open to discussing your day?”

“Movie", Roxanne mumbled around a mouthful of lemon chicken and rice. She swallowed. “After a shower. I feel…icky.”

Megamind nodded. “As you wish.”

Minion quietly slipped out the patio doors, starting the hover-bike as quietly as he could with the electric ignition, a smile on his fishy face. Megamind was in good hands.


	4. Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants another chapter? Did you want another chapter? 
> 
> Yes, you did! Yes, you did! 
> 
> Ah, ah! No bitey!

Roxanne padded barefoot down the stairs, flushed pink after her hour long hot shower, pixie cut chestnut hair still slightly damp, wearing a faded black t-shirt two sizes too large for her adorned with a screen-printed jagged bright cobalt blue logo Megamind instantly recognized, over a pair of baggy grey fleece track pants. He was amazed any of the less-than-spectacularly successful ‘Evil World Tour' merchandise still existed. The tour dates and locations listed on the back of the shirts had been something of a lark, consisting of no less than fifty-one scheduled weekly appearances in Metrocity, and precisely one engagement in Akron, Ohio. On April Fool's Day. 

Megamind sat quietly on the far end of the couch, his face carefully neutral, waiting for Roxanne to decide where she was going to settle while they watched the movie. 

He was slightly surprised, and a bit thrilled, when she tossed a pillow into his lap, curled up on her right side with her head on the pillow, nudging him to lift his right arm, and tugged a thick arts and craft hand-sewn quilt up around her shoulders.

“What are we watching?”, Roxanne murmured.

Megamind swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. “Uhh…", he panicked slightly at the casual intimacy Roxanne displayed. “ ‘Forbidden Planet', starring Leslie Nielsen, Walter Pidgeon, and Anne Francis. An ambitious early effort at science-fiction cinematography that has been called ‘Shakespeare in space'.” 

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at him. From this angle, Megamind's bulbous cranium displayed almost comedic proportions. “You like space opera, even though you’re a…?”, she hesitated, not wanting to insult him.

“An alien?”, Megamind finished her question. “An extra-terrestrial? A little blue man from the uncharted depths of the cahz-mohs?”

Roxanne nodded.

“I quite enjoy the speculative nature of the genre", Megamind grinned. “It’s fascinating to see what humans think meeting an alien would be like.” He thumbed the DVD player to life, starting the movie.

“But…you’re an alien", Roxanne observed. “How have you been treated?”

Megamind scowled, his eyebrows lowering. “For the most part, rudely.”

Metro City's ace television reporter turned back to the movie, watching as Leslie Nielsen romped across the planet Altair IV, discovering the titanic ruins of a vanished advanced non-human species, deadly phantasmal threats, a scientist driven mad by hubris and solitude, and the first love of the scientist's young daughter.

Megamind’s arm had drifted innocently from the back of the couch to Roxanne's shoulder, and she felt him stiffen when the planet was consumed by the stellar heat of the Krell nuclear furnaces in the planet’s core, unleashed to end the unintended but very deadly threat the planet posed.

“I forgot about that scene", Megamind whispered. “Watching a world die makes one…mehlun-kholay.”

Roxanne glanced over her shoulder, concern in her blue eyes. “Are you alright?”

A faint pinkish blush on the tips of his blue ears, Megamind cleared his throat. “Fine. I’m fine", he lied.

The smirk that answered him was proof Roxanne didn’t believe him.

Time ticked by in silent heartbeats.

“Oh, alright!”, Megamind sighed in exasperation. “Your wily reporter skills have gotten the best of me!”

Roxanne shifted, rolling on her back to look up at her…could she call him a guest? “Dish.”

“I was eight days old and still living at home when my parents stuffed me in a hastily constructed space vehicle and threw me out into the universe”, Megamind related, his gaze focused inward. “A black hole swallowed up my home planet, and another one from the Glaupunkt Quadrant. I was the sole survivor from my home planet, and Wayne Scott, or Metro Mahn as you know him, was the survivor from Glaupunkt.”

Roxanne blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected honesty.

“Wayne landed in the lap of luxury, whereas I crashed into the exercise yard of the Prison for the Criminally Gifted.”

“Hold on!”, Roxanne exclaimed, rolling to sit up, turning to face Megamind, the quilt sliding off her shoulder to puddle around her hips. “You're telling me you literally landed in prison?! When was this?!”

Megamind glanced at Roxanne dubiously. “Thirty-five years ago, Christmas Eve?”, he said hesitantly.

Her eyes darting, Roxanne searched Megamind’s face for signs of deception. She felt she probably knew him better than almost anyone, with the exception of Minion.

He was telling the truth.

Something told her she’d just stumbled over the biggest story of her career.

“Excuse me”, Roxanne said, rising from the couch to retrieve her cell phone, activating it, and dialing a number. Waited for the other person to answer. Megamind watched her with mixed curiosity and mild apprehension.

“Lynn? Roxanne. Yes, I know what time it is", she scoffed. “You still want to get out of the studio? Great. Grab one of the new minicams and meet me in the parking lot tomorrow morning! Huh? Because I need a new camera jockey, and…no, you know why!” A pause. “Great! See you tomorrow!”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow when she saw Megamind's smirk. “What?!”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?!”, The chestnut haired reporter demanded to know.

“The ‘I’m not going to stop until I get to the bottom of this!' look", Megamind nodded smugly. 

For the first time in more than a week, Roxanne felt like she was in control. Of her life. Of herself. 

Megamind cleared his throat, raising a hand in polite inquiry. “Minion departed with the hover-bike. Is it alright if I crash on your couch for the evening?”

*-*-*

Morning was scheduled too early in the day, in Roxanne Ritchi’s humble opinion. Getting camera ready always took too much time, especially when she had to pitch a new or daring story idea to station management, who continually tried to steer her into quote-unquote ‘safe' reporting that didn’t rock the boat and upset advertising revenue.

Stepping into her black chunky kitten-heel pumps, Roxanne gave herself a final once-over in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, and headed downstairs to discover a stranger in her kitchen.

“Who let you in?!”, Roxanne yelped at the middling-tall man who was calmly pouring two cups of coffee, or had been until she startled him, resulting in a steaming brown puddle rapidly spreading across her counter-top, with led to the intruder dropping her glass coffee pot in the sink, and frantically trying to mop up the spill with her 70’s vintage floral print tea-towel.

“You surprised me", Megamind’s voice came from the bald strangers lips.

Roxanne took a moment to comprehend what was going on, coming to grips with what she was seeing.

Megamind didn’t look like, well…Megamind. The bulbous cranium was now just a normal though still bald human head, graced with facial features Roxanne now recognised, with the same bright green eyes and finger-width strip of neatly trimmed coal-black beard. Flawless coffee and cream complexion spoke of mixed Latino and Afro-American ancestry, and he wore a light cobalt Henley over stylish black denim pants precisely faded to dark grey.

“How…??” Roxanne was genuinely confused.

Megamind held up his left wrist, displaying a stylish and intricate chronograph watch. “Disguise generator. Just one of my brilliant inventions”, he gloated. “Quite convenient on those occasions when I need to go incognito amongst the populace of Metrocity.”

“Wing's", Roxanne deadpanned.

“Oh, evil heavens, no!”, Megamind grinned, sliding Roxanne's cup of coffee towards her. “Eddie says I’m one of his best customers!”

Roxanne took a sip of her coffee. It was perfect, exactly how she liked it. That was…unsettling.

“You’re on a first name basis with Eddie Wing?”, Roxanne mused.

Megamind shook his head, offering his hostess a plated fried egg sandwich. “Wrong, miss nosy reporter! Eddie Cho. He bought the business from his father-in-law, Wing Bao.”

Roxanne sighed. Too early and definitely not enough coffee.

“Might I say you’re looking especially competent this morning, Miss Ritchi, perhaps even formidable”, Megamind observed, taking a bite from his own fried egg sandwich. “Your on-somm-bul simply screams Edith Head.”

Roxanne glanced down at her fitted grey skirt and white sleeveless blouse. With the matching jacket she’d intended to wear this morning, she could understand the comparison Megamind had made. “I’m going to demand an interview with the Warden at the Prison this morning.”

“Oh really…”

Roxanne smirked at her guest. “I’m looking into how a certain person’s career in extra-legal activity might have gotten started. What are your plans for the day?”

A moment of silent introspection as Megamind sipped his own coffee. 

“Housecleaning.”

*-*-*

Roxanne sat behind the wheel of her cobalt blue 2005 Toyota Echo, Lynn from the weather desk in the passenger seat, clutching a brand new, state-of-the-art Sony HXR-NX5U mini video camera. It was almost noon, and their quarry was going to depart for lunch. Roxanne intended to ambush a certain Department of Corrections employee and ask several pointed questions about exactly how they ran the medium security prison facility.

Lynn flicked an apprehensive glanced at her co-worker. “You did get the go-ahead for this little project, right?”

Hands gripping the steering wheel, Roxanne kept her eyes fixed on the main gate. “They didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t clear this with Legal?!”

“Better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission”, Roxanne nodded, her mind made up.

Lynn covered her eyes with one hand, groaning. “Oh my god. We are so fired…”

Channel 8's ace field reporter nudged her less-than-willing sidekick in the leg. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch”, Roxanne grinned. “Now look alive. Our pigeon is coming out the gate…”

“Can’t bunch what I’m not wearing", Lynn muttered, lifting the small professional-quality video camera as Roxanne opened her door and exited the car, wireless microphone in hand, marching directly toward the white-haired Warden.

*-*-* 

It wasn’t the first time Megamind had ridden Metro City’s lackluster public transit in disguise. Probably wouldn’t be the last. He was just annoyed that once again he had to travel to the downtown core to transfer to the routes that serviced the city's industrial area on the lakeshore where he and Minion maintained the Evil Lair. And because the transfers at this time of day weren’t properly scheduled, he now had the better part of an hour to kill.

A quick reconnoiter of the recently completed and dedicated Metro Man museum was in order, with the intention of perhaps plotting an embarrassing vandalism or two of the more incorrect exhibits.

Megamind strolled through the facility, a look of cool disdain as he studied the displays and dioramas of the numerous clashes between himself and the champion of Metro City, noting the numerous erroneous details in his costume, equipment, or the setting the confrontation took place in, to the point he might actually have to destroy the building just so the trustees could correct their handiwork.

Taking the elevator up to the circular walkway that provided the advertised ‘Metro Man eye view’ of Metro City, Megamind leaned on the railing, glowering at the face of the titanic alabaster statue erected in the center of the museum in honor of his lifelong nemesis, idly fiddling with the control ring of the disguise generator watch he wore.

A long-suffering sigh of frustration from his right.

“Excuse me”, complained a bespectacled tousle-headed blonde man in an inexpensive brown tweed jacket and blue turtleneck sweater, pushing a library cart, his smooth pale face a study in terminal ennui. “Would you mind getting out of my way? Oh, and your Megamind cosplay is atrocious. His cranium isn't anywhere near that grotesquely bulbous.”

Megamind glanced at his hands. He must have inadvertently deactivated the disguise generator. “And just who are you?”, Megamind demanded, performing a quick scan of the apathetic individual. 

“I’m Bernard, museum curator and resident Megamind expert", the man explained tiredly. 

Megamind pulled hi De-gun from its holster, aiming at Bernard.

Bernard scoffed. “What a ridiculous copy of Megamind’s De-gun. It doesn't look anything lik—”

A flicker of actinic blue light, a soft crackling pop, and a small glowing pale blue cube bounced on the top shelf of the library cart. Megamind looked around, confirming he hadn’t been seen, and re-activated the disguise generator, his appearance now that of an annoying museum curator. This could prove useful...


	5. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter than usual, but we're still plugging along!
> 
> Enjoy.

It was a six block walk from the bus stop closest to the ‘abandoned’ industrial building that concealed the Evil Lair. Most of the district was given over to office space, warehousing, manufacturing, chain-link fenced storage yards, long-haul trucking facilities and local courier companies, the Great Lakes regional fulfilment center of internet retail behemoth Orinoco, numerous blue-collar small businesses, and an astonishing number of greasy-spoon diners that fed and caffeinated the local workforce who could afford to eat away from work.

Megamind made his way around the back of the graffiti-embellished brick and corrugated metal fence that surrounded his abode, looking for a specific patch of spray-painted decoration, stepping through the clever holographic illusion that concealed the entrance to the Evil Lair, walking along the echoing high-ceilinged tunnel into the very heart of his criminal headquarters.

A shoal of floating brainbots gradually assembled as Megamind proceeded along the tunnel, their usual ‘bowgs' increasing in frequency and volume as their numbers swelled becoming an overlapping chorus of a single vocal synthesizer-produced word.

“Intruder!”

The brainbots swarmed toward him, polished steel bear-trap jaws clashing, and Megamind belatedly remembered the disguise generator was still activated, and he looked like that tweedy museum curator, Bernard!

A frantic twist of the bezel ring deactivated the disguise generator in the nick of time, and the mass of brainbots went from intimidating and aggressive to playful and attentive as Megamind greeted his cybernetic creations. “Yes! It’s Daddy! Whose your Daddy? Whose your Daddy?”, he crooned, pulling his fingers back just in time as an over-eager brainbot nipped at him. “Ah, ah! No bitey!” 

Tossing a three-quarter inch combination wrench like a dog chew-toy to entertain the brainbots, Megamind entered the living area of the Evil Lair to be greeted by Minion carrying a small red lacquered tray. 

“Welcome back, Sir!”, the alien fish grinned toothily in his head-tank. “I made some teriyaki Spam musubi as a little snack while you settle in.”

Megamind plucked one of the canned meat product delicacies off the tray, popping it whole into his mouth, chewing meditatively as he rapidly took stock of the situation in the Evil Lair, absently listening to Minion's report on current power distribution for the Lair and the supply of domestic consumables, not really paying attention, his concentration instead focusing on a suitable retaliation against Hal Stewart.

“…Sir, are you even listening to me?”, Minion concluded.

“I have nefarious plans to attend to, and you’re bringing me a list of trifles—“ Megamind grated.

“You like trifle!”, Minion interjected. “And it takes just the right touch to get the layers to settle just right—”

“Minion, I know you only want the very best to bring out the worst in me, but right now I’m a little busy plotting my vengeance!”, Megamind finished speaking, talking right over his finny companion.

“Metro Man, Wayne, hasn’t really been active", Minion pointed out helpfully. “We could take over the city anytime we want!”

“Eventually. We have other matters to attend to.”

“Eventually? Eventually?!” Minion, for lack of a better term, looked like a stunned mullet. “Sir, you’ve spent your entire career focused on a single goal, the conquest of Metro City!”

“Well I’m shifting gears!”, Megamind declared, index finger raised above his head in an imperious manner. “Some things are more important than conquering Metrocity!”

Minion scoffed, rolling his black eyes. “Pfft. Like what?”

“Like teaching that punk Hal Shtewart a lesson he'll never forget!”

A pause as Minion regarded his master carefully.

“This is about Miss Ritchi, isn’t it, Sir?”

“So what if it is?”, Megamind snapped. 

“Sir, she’s clouding your mind with her feminine wiles!”, Minion protested.

“Well maybe I like her wiles!”

Minion recoiled, gasping. The day had finally come. “Who are you? What’s happening to you?”

Megamind took a moment to consider before answering. “Just because I’m a Bad Guy, doesn’t mean I have to be a bad guy.”

“You’re in love!”, Minion made the intuitive leap, ranged mouth agape in astonishment, metal finger quizzically pointing at his boss.

“So what if I am!”, Megamind confessed irritably.

“Oh, this is bad!”, Minion fretted. 

“You don’t know what’s good for bad!”

“I know you being in love is going to mess up a lot of your plans to rule the city!”

“No, Minion! Not mess up! Modify!”, Megamind grinned, struck by inspiration. “I mean have you seriously looked at Metrocity? The place is practically a dump! How could I take over a city that looked like Hoboken rejected it?!”

“Sir, you have that evil gleam in your eye", Minion cautioned. “The one you get before you go off half-cocked.”

“We're going to clean up this town, Minion!”, Megamind announced, fists on his hips. “Starting with Hal Shtewart! Evil has standards!”

*-*-*

Lynn let out a heavy sigh, slumped, exhausted, hands dangling between her knees as she perched on the edge of the red sofa next to the trembling, shattered, neurotic wreckage of what was left of the best television journalist in Metro City, presently curled into a near fetal ball in the corner of the couch.

“What the hell happened?” Lynn was honestly baffled. What had reduced tough as nails Roxanne Ritchi to a stuttering, hesitant, insecure mess who flinched if you brushed against her? Driving Roxanne back to her apartment and getting her inside had been it’s own choice slice of hell.

“The red light", Roxanne mumbled.

Lynn had no idea what her colleague was talking about, then it hit her. The ready light on the camera. She felt the blood drain from her face.

“Oh my god…”, she whispered, horrified. “Is…is there anything I can do?”

Roxanne scoffed, wiping a mascara-tinted tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “Call my emotional support villain?” She was only half joking.

“You mean that blue doofus who kidnaps you all the time?!“

Roxanne nodded jerkily. “Right now, he’s the only one I trust.”

Lynn blew out a sigh, considering. A glance at her watch. Two hours until she had to be on camera for the six o’clock weather report. She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do."

Standing, Lynn stretched with a quiet groan, arms reaching above her head, fingers interlaced, palms up. “You gonna be alright?”

“No.”

*-*-*

Megamind deactivated the personal flight pack and touched down silently on the patio balcony of Roxanne Ritchi’s apartment, invisible thanks to the stealth field setting on his disguise generator. He had intended to use the flight pack in a scheme to imitate Metro Man while committing a string of high-profile robberies that would have blackened the hero's reputation, a plan that in retrospect was incredibly childish and vindictive. Beneath him.

A twist of the disguise generator bezel, and he was visible again, shedding the armature of the flight pack. 

Through the double French patio doors, Megamind could see the reporter curled up on the end of the couch. He tapped on the glass.

Roxanne looked up, blinking in the evening light. She nodded.

Megamind opened the door and stepped in. “I came as soon as I got your massage. Ingenious to exploit your co-worker in such a manner.”

“I’m quitting.”

“You’re what now?”, the villain deadpanned.

Roxanne sat up, shuffling into the kitchen, removing the bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, and retrieved a tumbler, pouring three fingers into the squat glass, gulping down the searing liquid, then pouring the same amount again, returning to the couch, her drink on the coffee table.

“I’m done", Roxanne sighed, despondent. “I was going to ambush the warden with a few questions about exactly how you became an inmate, but when I saw the red light on the camera, I froze. Deer in the headlights. Completely useless.”

Megamind crossed the room to the couch, sitting beside the visibly shaken woman, not touching her, listening, eyebrows arched in concern. “I don’t know what to say, Miss Ritchi.”

“It all came back. Everything Hal did, and I couldn’t stop shaking”, Roxanne whispered. “The warden, he tried to help Lynn get me back in the car, but every time he touched me all I did was scream. The guards on duty were ready to bust his head, they thought he was assaulting me.”

Roxanne gulped down her drink.

“That’s not going to help.”

The glass shattered on the wall. 

“Don’t you think I know that?!”, Roxanne howled. “But I just want it all to go away! I can’t sleep, I’m jumping at shadows, I can’t stand being around people but I don’t want to be alone!”

Megamind took a slow deep breath, thinking. “Alright, quit then.”

“What?!” Roxanne was outraged, hurt.

Megamind shrugged. “Until you process what happened, you’re not going to be able to work, not competently. So, quit. Take a sabbatical, leave of absence, what ever you call it. Find a new path for yourself."

“And lose my home, my shitty car, go into debt worse than I already am, and get blacklisted by the industry!”, Roxanne objected at volume.

“Mortgaged?”, Megamind inquired, index finger indicating the entire apartment.

“Yeah! And?”

“Car loan?”

“So? It’s almost paid off!”, Roxanne huffed.

A confident nod from her frequent abductor, a faint sly smile on his blue lips, a mischievous glint in his brilliant green eyes. 

“You are not going to De-gun my loan officer!”, the feisty reporter objected.

“Tempting”, Megamind grinned. “But no.”

“What ever your cockamamie plan is, no, I’m telling you right now—”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself!”, Megamind cut her off. “And certainly not because of some third-rate predatory creep.”

Roxanne was breathing hard, chest rising and falling in a manner Megamind found enticing and highly distracting. 

“I’m all messed up…”, she whimpered.

Megamind nodded, gently, staring at the shards of glass on the hardwood floor. “I know.”

“I’m so tired…”

“Go take a shower", Megamind suggested. “I’ll tidy up and make some supper.”


	6. Mean What You Say, Say What You Mean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might have been waiting for this. Your patience has been rewarded.
> 
> And if you think this ride is over, nope, more to come!

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Megamind glanced across the small kitchen table at Roxanne. Wisps of steam rose from the coffee cup in front of her, breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast untouched. Morning sunlight brought glints of auburn in her short dark chestnut hair as she regarded him, arms folded on the table. She was wearing his ‘Evil World Tour' shirt again over thin fleece pants and slightly despondent expression.

“Well, before anything else, you're calling in sick", the blue-skinned alien replied, pushing Roxanne's cellphone towards her. “Mental health day.”

“Jerk", Roxanne smirked. And made the call. Which lasted longer than it should have, and involved a rather detailed and frankly intrusive explanation of why she was calling. And had her answering with “I understand”, more frequently than Megamind felt comfortable with.

A black eyebrow raised in silent inquiry as Roxanne broke the connection, looking away, phone gripped tightly in her hand, pressed to her mouth, not trusting herself to speak, her mind a thousand miles away as she stared out the patio doors at the city beyond.

Megamind broke the silence. “So…?” Drawn out, politely curious.

“Indefinite leave of absence pending review by corporate."

The cellphone clattered on the table, its battery popping out as the compartment cover came free on impact, skittering across the maple table top.

“Oh”, Megamind deadpanned. There wasn’t much more he could say. He re-assembled Roxanne's phone out of reflex more than anything, placing it within her reach. 

Roxanne blew out a frustrated sigh, shoving aside her now cold breakfast, chin dropping onto her folded arms. “Could this day suck any more?! God!”

“On the bright side…”, Megamind offered cautiously.

“There’s a bright side?” You could cut yourself on the sarcastic edge in Roxanne's voice.

“Your shed-yool for the day is now wide open", her companion continued as if she hadn't interrupted. “Why don’t we do something to distract you?”

“Like what?”

Megamind's green eyes darted side to side as he considered and rejected proposals at lightning speed. “Think of the best time you ever had! And multiply it, times six!”, he exclaimed, index finger raised in triumph.

“I wanna go biking through Hilltop Park.”

“O-kay…?” Megamind was dubious. He’d never ridden a bicycle. But for Roxanne, he’d risk life and blue limb.

*-*-*

An hour later, Megamind wobbled on his rented black fifteen-speed mountain bike, derailleur clattering, just behind and to the right of Roxanne Ritchi, who pedaled her Electra Cruiser 7D in French blue with smooth, easy rhythm that caused her heart-shaped bottom to sway in a rather remarkable manner that Megamind did his best to pretend was not appealing to him.

Roxanne had raised an eyebrow in silent comment at the tweedy, bespectacled intellectual in an ill-fitting cycling helmet and daypack who had rolled inexpertly up beside her as she unloaded her bike. She’d chosen to wear a light dusty blue zippered hoodie over a white tank top and dark grey yoga pants. Navy canvas deck shoes protected her feet from the hot pavement. 

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“His name is Bernard, he's a curator at the Metro Mahn museum, and he’s interviewing you for his upcoming coffee-table retrospective volume on the notable exploits of Metrocity's most dashing supervillain.”

Roxanne smirked. “Alright then, ‘Bernard', try to keep up.”

Three quarters of the way around the geographical feature that gave Hilltop Park it’s name, Roxanne finally spoke up. “My mother and I used to come here all the time when I was younger. It’d break her heart to see what a dump it’s become in the past couple of years.”

Just ahead of them, a flutter of sable feathers launched a crow scavenging in an over-flowing wire trash receptacle into the air, a plastic six-pack ring looped around its neck. Roxanne grimaced in sympathy and distaste. Even Megamind/Bernard was taken aback slightly.

Disgusted, Roxanne pointed out the padlocked public bathrooms near the disused picnic benches, a metal sharps collector box now secured to the concrete wall of the dilapidated building with tamper-proof bolts.

Closer to the parking lot where they had started out, the pair found a spot reasonably clear of litter to spread a fleece blanket on the ground, sharing a light lunch of convenience store sandwiches and bottled sweet iced tea. Lying beside each other, looking up at the cloud-dappled blue sky through the leafy branches of the maple that shaded them, Megamind and Roxanne chatted, laughing at shared memories of some of his less successful schemes.

“It’s really weird", Roxanne confessed, smiling. “We’ve been at this for years, you kidnapping me in so many harebrained attempts to show up Wayne, and I don’t even know your real name.”

“I…don’t really have one", Megamind shrugged. “Shortly after my unorthodox arrival, I was given a prison file number. To my uncles and the guards I was ‘kid’, or ‘Two Ball', and in shool the teachers referred to me as ‘you there'.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I find using the name ‘Megamind’ to be sufficient for my purposes", he nodded.

“Tax time must be a nightmare!”, the reporter smirked. 

“Ugh. Do not get me started.”

Roxanne rolled on her right side, head propped up on her hand as she gazed at Megamind’s green eyes. “Seriously, you have to have some kind of alter ego, don’t you? How else do you buy all the stuff you use?”

“Miss Ritchi, you’re attempting to use your nosy reporter skills on me. It’s not going to work!”

“Call me Roxanne.”

“Such…tricks…won't work on me—”, Megamind cautioned, slightly frantic. What the hell was happening?! 

“Please talk slower", Roxanne smiled, voice husky.

“…Temptress", Megamind grinned weakly.

A gasp of delight, and shock, from Roxanne. 

“Look, this is starting to feel very uncomfortable, Miss Ritchi—”

“Roxanne.”

“Roxanne", Megamind corrected himself. “I mean, yes, lying here beside you on a bright sunlit afternoon, sharing a laugh is fun, Evil Heaven knows, but is it really appropriate for you to be—”

“I trust you", Roxanne confessed. “You’ve never hurt me, not intentionally. And you’ve never actually lied to me. And the past week…”

Megamind nodded silently, encouraging her to continue.

“You’ve been the only person who came through when I really needed someone to count on", Roxanne confided. “And now…you call me ‘temptress'. It should scare the hell out of me. Being seen that way. After what happened. But it’s you, and I know I’m safe around you.”

“You make me sound predictable…”, Megamind grumbled.

“You are predictable. And reliable.”

Megamind glanced at Roxanne, unsure how much he could say. Should say.

“Cielo.”

Roxanne was confused. “Huh?”

“My name", Megamind said quietly, hands interlocked on his stomach. “The one I use when…it’s just me. Cielo Libertad. It’s my name, the one I chose, and no-one can take it away from me.”

Roxanne paused, mind racing. That name seemed almost familiar… 

Then it hit her.

“You’re him!”, she enthused, delighted. 

Megamind’s borrowed face fell. She’d figured it out. This was bad.

“I have all of your books!” Giddy, more alive than he’d seen her in more than a week. “God, your poetry is amazing! I wish I could write half as well as you!”, Roxanne gushed, head thrown back, laughing. “Half of the East Coast art critics have been losing their minds trying to track down the guerilla installation artist ‘Sky', one of the most influential and frustratingly reclusive poetic and artistic voices of the decade, and here I am, lying beside him! God what a scoop, and I can’t tell anyone!”

Roxanne whooped with laughter for several long minutes until her belly and sides ached, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eventually her laughter subsided into quiet chuckles, and she lay beside Megamind, who handed her a handkerchief to dab away the mascara-tinted tear trails on her cheeks.

“God that felt good", Roxanne murmured as she lay on her back, still chuckling. Megamind/Bernard smiled at her, leaning up on his left elbow. 

“You should still look into getting some therapy”, he suggested.

Roxanne nodded. “Yeah, but not right now. Right now…I’m okay.”

“As you wish.”

She quirked her head, regarding him closely, staring into his green eyes. “Do you know what you’re saying? What you’re really saying?”

Megamind/Bernard nodded. “I am certain of the meaning of and intent behind the statement. I’ll stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t you dare!” Before she really understood what she was doing, or why, Roxanne looped her arm behind Megamind's neck, pulling him into a sudden, heartfelt kiss. She felt him stiffen in shock, pull away…

“Miss Ritchi, Roxanne, please!”, Megamind recoiled. “Are you sure this is appropriate?! I mean, not that I’m objecting, and Evil Heavens know you’re incredibly attractive, but—”

“You said you meant it!”, Roxanne cut him off. 

“And I do!”, Megamind agreed, gently pushing away. “But are you sure you're ready for…That? With…me? I mean, I’m not…”

“Human?”, she finished for him. “Have you ever considered that might be something in your favor?”

Megamind pondered for a moment, lips pursed, then nodded. And kissed Roxanne, gently. “As you wish.” A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the tree for just a moment. 

“Don’t fucking tease me!”, she growled, unamused. “If you say it, you better mean it!”

“Every word", Megamind whispered.

Roxanne sniffled.

“Are you ready to go home?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Megamind/Bernard rolled to his feet, helping Roxanne up, then folded and stowed the fleece blanket in his daypack while Roxanne deposited the remnants of their lunch in the trash.

Side by side, they coasted down the shallow slope to the parking lot, barely using their pedals, gliding to a stop to dismount and walk the bikes back to Roxanne's coupe to place the bikes on the rack mounted above the rear bumper.

Sunlight glittered off hundreds of minute faceted cubes of tempered glass strewn on the ground beside the cobalt vehicle, the driver's door ajar.

“Ohgoddammit!”, Roxanne yowled in distress. “This is the last goddamned straw!”

A gaping rectangular hole in the dash console was no longer occupied by the car stereo, and the glove compartment yawned wide, the few remaining contents needlessly scattered on the car floor.

Roxanne let her bike fall over with a clatter, and slumped, sitting against the trunk lid, ignoring the sun-heated painted metal as she began to hyperventilate, a thin, keening whine building in her throat as the theft of her property brutally reminded her of how casually she could be violated. Hiccupping sobs as she covered her face, unwilling to look at the damage.

A quick glance around out of habit, and Megamind flipped down his own bike's kickstand before lifting Roxanne’s bike back onto its wheels and flipping down that kickstand too.

Enfolding Roxanne in his arms, Megamind held her as she cried, her face tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder as he comforted her, stroking her hair and whispering encouragement. After a few moments, he gently lifted her chin so he could look at her.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

She nodded jerkily, still weeping, quiet heartbroken verbalizations, “Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn”, as she fumbled at her waist pouch, unsuccessfully trying to pull open the zipper.

“I’ve got it", Megamind said quietly, sliding open the zipper and retrieving the device. After making sure it was turned on, he dialed a number from memory. Waited for the call to be answered.

“Uncle Carmine?” A pause. “How soon before you can be at Parking Lot ‘C', Hilltop Park? Ten minutes? Too long. Make it five and you get an extra Benjamin.”

*-*-*

Minion saw the dark expression on Megamind's face as his boss stomped into the living area of the Evil Lair.

He could count on half of two fingers the number of times he’d seen Megamind actually angry. 

Annoyed? Yes. 

Aggravated? Lost count. 

Severely irked? Is it Tuesday?

“Put out the word to all the pawn shops and second hand stores in Metrocity. I want Miss Ritchi’s car stereo reinstalled in three hours, all damage repaired, looking like new. No excuses. And I want the punk responsible for breaking into her car found in two. We’re going to have a short talk”, Megamind ordered in a calm, quiet tone.

This wasn’t anger. This was worse.

“Uh, how short a talk…Sir?”, Minion inquired carefully.

“I’ll need an empty tin can.”


	7. The Pig Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A miscreant is given subtle warning, and romance blossoms under the influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, kiddies: graphic description of threats of an unpleasant demise.
> 
> Second heads up: Nudity and sexual situation, definite intimacy, and consent issues.
> 
> If your comfortable with all of that, dive in!

The young man blinked rapidly in surprise as the cloth sack that had been placed over his head was snatched away, enabling him to look around the large room he was in. High unfinished concrete walls with vertical slit windows, a rough bare concrete floor. Doors of plywood supported on two-by-two frames. Spidery battery-powered construction lights on slender yellow tripods provided glaring illumination for the scenario.

“I do hope that wasn’t Miss Ritchi's abduction hood that you used, Minion.”

The voice was familiar to the young man, having grown up hearing the ludicrous boasting Metro City's most prominent criminal.

“Of course not, Sir", the hulking cybernetic robot-gorilla-fish hybrid assured his employer cheerfully, cuffing the blonde miscreant on the back of the head. “This sack was previously used to store moldy potatoes.”

“This is an amazing space”, Megamind noted casually, stepping into view, silky high-collared black cape flowing in a cascade from his black leather clad shoulders. “Out of the way, non-descript, no nosy neighbors. I only wish I’d discovered it under more…favorable circumstances.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed, Mega-dweeb?”, the insolent youth sneered.

“Brave talk coming from someone tied to a chair”, Megamind insinuated. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah." Bravado, fueled by testosterone. “Get on with whatever, man.”

“Minion, is everything ready for our little demonstration?”

The fish-piloted robot-gorilla clanked into view, the dressed and gutted carcass of a pig slung over one shoulder, a common soup can in its other hand. “Ready, Sir!”

The soup can was placed on the floor, lid bent open at an angle. Minion held the pig carcass in his open palm, casually at arm's length. 

Megamind drew the De-gun from its holster. “Fascinating device, this”, he remarked casually, holding the weapon with intimate familiarity. “Multiple settings, all very useful, some of them incredibly painful.”

The youth swallowed nervously.

A flickering pulse of actinic blue light, a soft ‘popping' sound, and a small glowing pale blue cube now occupied Minion's robotic metal palm.

“Your short-sighted and impulsive actions interfered with my plans, punk", Megamind observed.

“What, your plans to get thrown in jail again, loser!”

Minion deposited the glowing cube in the soup can.

“Oooo, sooooo scary!”, the common criminal scoffed with more bravado than he actually felt.

“You’re leaving town", Megamind replied calmly. “For good. I don’t care where you go, but you’re done in Metrocity.”

“Or else what?”

Megamind pulled a small bottle from his belt, one with a medicine dropper cap.

“Observe, cretin.”

Two drops of tap water from the bottle plopped into the soup can.

A nightmarish squelching crunch, a squeal of torn metal parting, the can bulging at its equator, a single pallid pig trotter protruding obscenely from the can's open end.

Inside his head-tank, Minion recoiled, paling slightly. “Eew…”

“Oh, look", Megamind smiled, luciferian, smug. “I packed you a little something to eat on your trip. Canned ham.” 

The thin spatter of liquid trickling off the folding metal chair seat.

“Oh, come on!”, Megamind complained at volume. “Is it too much to ask for some professionalism here?! Minion! Clean that up!”

The arch-villain of Metro City stormed out of the room in a huff, deeply offended.

Minion clanked over to the young thief, delighted fanged grin on his fishy face, black eyes gleaming merrily, a sawn-off baseball bat in hand, painted black, with the words ‘Forget-me Stick' childishly inscribed in white. “Say ‘Goodnight, Gracie'.”

*-*-*

The cab ride with ‘Uncle' Carmine had passed in much of a blur to Roxanne. She had only the vaguest recollection of someone accompanying her to her apartment, and then slumping over on the sofa, drained and exhausted.

She didn't have the energy or the focus to question what had happened to her bike. Or her car. Both probably long gone by now, stolen. More headaches.

Afternoon had come and gone, sunset painting the sky a riot of scarlet and deep violet.

Someone had left the television on, the volume turned low. The shifting blue glow silhouetted a hand-sized piece of card or paper folded in half and stood up tent fashion. Curious, she reached out from under the duvet someone had pulled over her, reading the handwritten note in the pale flickering light.

‘Have to run some errands, getting your car seen to, back soon.

I’ll bring supper.

{M}.’ 

Roxanne smiled, just a little bit. And closed her eyes.

When she opened them again it was full night, and Megamind was letting himself in through the patio doors. He noticed she was watching him. “Did I wake you?”

She shook her head negative, silent.

“I was somewhat hurried getting supper", Megamind said quietly. “Is Indian acceptable?”

“Gold Peacock on Parker?”

Megamind nodded confirmation, turning on the stove hood light. “The only place in town that knows how to make proper aloo gobi.”

Pushing the duvet aside, Roxanne rolled into a sitting position, stretching. “God. I just lay there like a lump all day. I’m useless.”

“You are not!” Megamind’s tone was slightly sharper than he intended. “The past few days have been very challenging for you, and your body is trying to tell you to rest.”

Roxanne sighed, annoyed that he was right. “What else did you bring?”

“Chicken vindaloo, basmati rice, aloo naan”, Megamind answered as he extracted containers from the large brown paper bag he'd carried in, along with a six-pack of chilled cola in cans. He looked up in mild surprise as Roxanne liberated one of the can’s and carried it into the kitchen, where she prepared a double rum and cola.

In reply, Megamind very deliberately placed a one liter box of pineapple juice on the table.

Roxanne arched an eyebrow at her…what the hell was Megamind to her now?

“I had a feeling you’d try to get inebriated tonight, so I’m joining in.”

“I don’t understand", Roxanne admitted.

“As I told you, alcohol makes me…ill”, Megamind reminded her. “Unsweetened pineapple juice is what gets me loaded.”

Roxanne watched as Megamind filled two plates, handing her one, before picking up his glass of cloudy yellow juice and moving to the couch.

Sitting beside him, Roxanne tucked her legs under herself as she leaned back, taking a sip of her drink as Megamind selected a movie for the evening, this time ‘Fantastic Voyage' with Donald Pleasance and Raquel Welch. Roxanne let out a tiny moan of gustatory pleasure at the first forkful of savory food.

“All these carbs are going to go straight to my ass", she complained cheerfully.

“A good end if there ever was one", Megamind quipped, then realized how his comment could be interpreted, the tips of his ears flushing violet. 

Roxanne grinned. “So you were checking me out!”, she giggled.

Megamind covered his embarrassment by chugging several swallows of pineapple juice.

By the time the miniaturized submarine ‘Proteus' had been destroyed by white blood cells, and the fugitive scientist's life saved, Roxanne was curled up beside Megamind, her head oh his chest as he reclined, boots kicked off, feet up on the coffee table, his arm around her shoulders. The supper dishes had been stacked at the opposite end of the coffee table. Roxanne noticed Megamind’s thumb gently, affectionately stroking the bare skin of her shoulder left exposed by her tank top.

“We should go to bed", Roxanne suggested. 

Stifling a yawn with the back of one blue hand, Megamind nodded in agreement.

Roxanne struggled to her feet, only slightly unsteady. Maybe that third rum and cola hadn’t been such a great idea. “C'mon", she said, tugging at his arm. “Shower.”

He blinked at her, not quite comprehending. Did she just…? 

“What're yooo shuj…suh-jest-ing?”, Megamind carefully enunciated. Pineapple juice played hell with his diction and elocution.

“I’m not sleeping next to a sweat hog. C'mon. Get up. Shower's upstairs."

Sleeping. Next to…oh Evil Heavens. This was getting out of hand!

“I think I’ll be fine down her—”

“Bullshit!”, Roxanne insisted. “You said ‘As you wish', and I wish to sleep next to my blooo boy-fren! Let’s go! Shower time!” Tugging on his arm, pulling him off the couch.

‘Code: Help!’, Megamind thought to himself as he was almost dragged towards the stairs leading up, Roxanne pausing to drunkenly strip off her tank top, yoga pants, socks, and rather cute boy-shorts along the way to the bathroom in a trail that under other circumstances could have been seductive.

Roxanne was gloriously naked when she flipped on the bathroom light, handed two towels to Megamind, and leaned into the bathtub stall to start the shower, letting the water run over her hand, adjusting the temperature. She glanced back at him.

“You’re still dressed", she blinked. “Why are you still dressed? Your clothes will get all wet.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Miss—”

“Roxanne!”, she growled, not taking no for an answer. “And yes, ‘sa good idea. We'll shave water.”

“You shed ‘shave'”, Megamind slurred.

“I did not!”, Roxanne protested. 

Megamind nodded affirmative. “You shed shave.”

“I did Brazilian once, in college. Itched like crazy growing back in", she grinned. Megamind’s eyes glanced down at Roxanne's…

“Ohhhh", Megamind slowly understood. “Ummm…”

Roxanne was tugging his shirt free from the waist of his pants. “C'mon, pretty boy. Get nekkid sho we kin get wet n' go to bed!” 

“Wait!”, Megamind protested futilely as his shirt was pulled up and off, tossed aside on the floor. “You think I’m pretty?!”

“N'huh", Roxanne grinned, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his leather pants and sliding them down his slender legs along with his underwear. Blinking at what she saw revealed. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It looks…normal”, Roxanne complimented him.

“You were expecting ‘Star Trek' ridges and bumps?”

Roxanne shivered slightly. “Maybe.” Shy. She stepped into the shower, beckoning him, changing the subject.

The shower door rattled closed behind him as hot water sluiced over both of them, Roxanne wrapping her arms around Megamind's slender frame, embracing him. His hands hovered, uncertain what to do. He felt her tremble.

“Hold me. Just hold me", Roxanne whispered, barely audible above the sound of the running water.

The steam billowed around the two as they stood under the streaming water, holding each other. 

Megamind realized Roxanne's fingertips were ever so gently stroking the back of his neck. A pleasurable shiver rippled down his spine. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the soft fragrance of her shampoo, the faint mammalian scent that was unique to her.

“We should finish showering before the hot water runs out", Megamind suggested.

Roxanne whined quiet protest. “I like this. Just us, nobody else, no…others.”

“You’re going to go all prunes.”

She hated that. “Jerk.”

“Temptress.”

She kissed him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I…I’m not ready to…but I need you, there, beside me, please?”

Megamind kissed her. Lips soft as petals. “As you wish.”

Minutes later, towelled dry, hair brushed out, Roxanne led Megamind by the hand, both of them naked, into her bedroom, her sanctum, switching on the bedside lamp, then turning to an old artisanal-crafted chest of drawers, claiming an overlarge tee-shirt for her nightwear, handing Megamind a second shirt and a pair of thin fleece pants.

“Puppies?”, Megamind demanded, slightly incredulous, looking askance at the printed design on the pants.

Roxanne flipped back the layers of sheet and duvet from the neatly made queen-sized bed, flopping into her pillows. “Foomp!”, she announced. Megamind slid into the wide bed beside his one-time victim. Roxanne reached up and turned out the light.

A faint breeze stirred the curtains, moonlight streaming through the window.

“I’m scared." Roxanne's whispered confession. She felt him nod in the silent darkness.

A long, measured breath from his side of the bed. 

“I’ve…never had a…relationship”, Megamind muttered. “I mean, other than Minion. Don’t misunderstand, please! He’s a great help, even if he talks back all the time, and a very good friend. But.. being close to someone, like…more than a sidekick. It's—”

Roxanne rolled to look at the alien. “You never had a girlfriend? Not even one?”

“Jennifer Rubinstein kissed me once on a dare in Sixth Grade. That’s the sum total of my experience with women”, Megamind explained. “Between prison and fighting Metro Mahn, I…didn’t have a lot of opportunity to go wading in the dating pool.”

“Oh.” So much understanding in a monosyllabic reply.

Roxanne rolled over, tugging the covers up over her shoulders, her back to him. Was she regretting her choice already, rejecting him so soon?

“ ’M cold", Roxanne murmured. “Come cuddle.”

Hesitantly, Megamind sidled close to the attractive woman he had abducted so many times. Roxanne reached back, fumbling for his hand, pulling him closer, encouraging him to roll so he could drape his arm over her ribs, her head tucked on his folded left arm which supported her pillow now, their legs tangling pleasantly. He realised she’d placed his hand to he could cup one full, soft breast, her rounded bottom snugged against his hips.

It was wonderfully, confusingly, magnificently intimate without being sexual. Megamind heard a soft sigh, felt Roxanne relax, tension flowing out of her body.

“ ‘S nice…”, she cooed. Megamind nodded, his lips brushing strands of her soft hair.

“Comfortable?”, he inquired sleepily.

“N'huh…”

Megamind kissed the tip of her ear, felt her fingers lace into his hand on her breast, the quiet hum of her happiness. “Goodnight, Miss Ritchi…”

“G'night, Cielo…”


	8. Karma Calls Collect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone starts a new job, someone else gets a phone call, and long-overdue debts get collected on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Scenes of violence.
> 
> Reminder: This is not a doctoral dissertation on the psychological responses to sexual assault. It's meant as entertainment, not intended in any way to trivialize the trauma suffered by sexual assault victims. Not every person will respond in the same way to those brutal events. And yes, I have done the research long before I even considered writing this piece.
> 
> Futher comments to the effect that I am not portraying the after effects to your preconceived satisfation *will* be deleted.

Her alarm should have gone off.

She’d slept in, and now she was going to be late.

And she was certain she wasn’t alone in her bed.

The events of the previous day filtered into her sleep-fogged, slightly hungover mind. 

Memories. She'd been placed on involuntary indefinite leave. Riding her bike through the park, laughing beside a bespectacled sandy-haired man, almost familiar, her vandalized car, tiny people in a miniature submarine navigating a blood vessel, a shower, holding someone close, someone kissing her ear before the soft oblivion of sleep. Brilliant green eyes haunting her dreams.

Roxanne Ritchi's eyes snapped open.

‘Oh. My. God…’, Roxanne thought to herself, heart pounding. ‘I called him my boyfriend!’

Megamind's arm was casually draped over her hips, his slow breaths puffing quietly behind her in his sleep. He was warmer than she might have expected.

‘Okay. Calm down', she told herself. ‘Think. You’re in your own bed, you didn’t do anything, and he didn’t make you. Megamind isn't…’ Roxanne's mind shied away from her other most recent encounter. She deliberately a calming breath. ‘As goofy and over the top as Megamind is, he’s not actually cruel, manipulative, or vindictive.’

Roxanne stared out the open bedroom door into the pre-dawn of her apartment. She felt more…normal, if that was the word. She didn’t need Megamind, but she found his presence oddly comforting, an eccentric counterbalance to the unyielding corporate conformity her job had demanded. He respected her.

Boyfriend? Really?

She considered her options, her needs, and the place she was in emotionally.

“Megamind?”, Roxanne asked in the darkness. “You awake?”

He twitched behind her, a sudden deep intake of breath, stiffening as he realized where he was.

“Miss Ritchi, I swear I never touched you, well, not that way!” His hand withdrew from around her waist.

“Relax, Megamind", Roxanne smiled as she turned over to face him. “I need to talk with you.” She saw the doubt, hurt, and confusion in his brilliant green eyes.

She kissed him. “I regret nothing about last night.” She paused. “No, that’s not true. I made a lot of assumptions, and I practically threw you into my shower. I’m sorry.”

“You were rather forward”, Megamind mused.

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” He could hear the worry in her voice.

Megamind nodded, reassuring her. “Indeed they have, Miss Ritchi, Roxanne…”

A pause.

He smiled. Goofy and honestly adorable. “You called me ‘pretty’ last night.”

“I also called you my boyfriend…”

“Am I?”

Roxanne settled in closer to Megamind. “I think I’d like that.”

Their foreheads touched.

“I…think I’d like that too", Megamind confessed. “I might…not get things right. But I’ll always try my best.”

She kissed him. “One of the things I’ve come to admire about you. Your tenacity.”

“Roxanne?”

“Mmm?”

“I think you're the most amazing, beautiful woman I know.”

“I’m practically the only woman you know", she scoffed.

“You’re the only one worth knowing."

Silence as they both lay there, just being close to each other. 

Megamind shifted, moving his arm to consult the disguise generator which was still a functional watch. “Evil Heavens! Is that the time?!”

Roxanne recoiled, offended. “Look, that’s a pretty lame way to—”

His kiss caught her off guard. “No, I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to be late getting ‘Bernard' to work if I don’t hurry!”

“Bernard? Work?! What…?!”

“He works at the Metro Mahn museum, a curator”, Megamind explained hastily, throwing back the covers and scrambling out of bed. “As a cover identity he’s brilliant! But if he doesn’t make it to work today, he’s unemployed!”

Roxanne sat up, watching as her one time abductor darted out of her bedroom to retrieve his clothing discarded in the small bathroom hours previously. Wrapping a satiny housecoat from the back of her bedroom door around herself, she followed Megamind into her kitchen where he rushed through making them both an abbreviated breakfast of toast and coffee, before a quick kiss and a promise he’d check in later as he hurried out the door, barely remembering to activate his disguise generator before he reached there elevators. She paused, leaning against the door frame, fingers stroking her lips, watching until the elevator doors closed.

What the hell was she doing?

*-*-*

“Guh!!”, Bernard grunted, awareness and existing again hitting like a wall, a mildly disorienting rush briefly overwhelming his senses, eyes coming quickly into focus.

The last thing he remembered was being on the skywalk between the two wings of the museum, making a sarcastic quip at a tasteless Megamind cosplayer. With what looked like a cheap De-gun prop.

A very real De-gun as it turned out, very much like the one in the hands of…himself. 

Bernard realized he was looking at himself. Not in a mirror. Not a clone. A copy, perfect in every detail down to the last freckle and blemish. The only difference was his doppelganger had brilliant green eyes in place of his own muddy brown.

“Oh shit…”

“Indeed”, the faux Bernard smiled. “I need your wallet, phone, and keys. Oh, and any passcodes to move around in the building. Your bank card PIN would also be useful.”

The two of them stood in Bernard's cramped, windowless office, the imposter with his back to the door, between Bernard and freedom.

“You’re really him, aren’t you?”, Bernard whined. 

“In the true blue flesh", Megamind Bernard said calmly. “Wallet, phone, and keys", he repeated. 

Bernard reached into his jacket, fumbling in the inner pocket, hesitant. “What happens to me?”

“Literally, nothing.”

“You’re going to De-gun me again, aren't you?", Bernard pouted. 

“It’s harmless.”

Bernard's wallet flopped on the cluttered desk, followed by his cellphone and keyring. 

“Five-five-oh-one. My bank card PIN”, Bernard sighed in resignation. “My museum access key-card is in my wallet, intranet password is ‘super-genius', replace the ‘u' in ‘super' with a double-oh, and the ‘e' in ‘genius' with a three.”

“Thank you", green-eyed Bernard nodded, lifting the De-gun.

“Good luck with my parents", original Bernard smiled, a bit wistful.

The De-gun lowered. “Come again?”

“If you haven’t been back to my apartment, you're going to have a ton of messages on the answering machine, mostly from my mother”, Bernard admitted with some embarrassment. “She pesters me at least three times a week about finding a girl to settle down with. Dad wonders when I’m going to get a real job. Getting De-gunned into oblivion almost seems like a promotion.”

The Bernard copy appeared to be weighing the pros and cons of the situation in the light of this new information. ”It could be quite some time before I reconstitute you again", he eventually advised.

“The longer the better", Bernard quipped.

A tweed-jacketed shrug, a flicker of bright blue light, and Megamind/Bernard caught the glowing blue cube the true Bernard had been reduced to, plucking it of the air before it could bounce on the tough institutional carpet found throughout the Metro Man museum. Concealing the De-gun, the disguised villain set about catching up on the numerous emails that had arrived in the curator’s inbox, deciding it was time to make few corrections to the various museum displays.

*-*-*

Deciding she had to do something productive with her now copious free time, Roxanne pulled her Dell Studio 15 laptop out and set it up on the coffee table, connecting the LAN cable and booting the infernal machine up, turning on the Channel 8 News in the background out of habit more than anything while waiting for her internet connection to come online.

Her cellphone rang, distracting her from some piece on the mysterious recent disappearance of Metro Man, the accompanying rise in crime statistics, and speculation on whether or not Megamind was somehow responsible for everything.

“Ritchi, go", she answered the phone.

“Good morning, Miss Ritchi", a cultured feminine voice replied. “My name is Lilith Morgenstern, an attorney with Wolfram and Hart. I was given your contact information by a mutual acquaintance. Do you have a few moments to discuss your present situation vis a vis your employer?”

Roxanne had a very good idea who the mutual acquaintance might be. “Sure, I’ve got a few minutes.”

“Excellent!”, the lawyer purred. “I think we have very good grounds to sue Channel 8 for failing to protect you from a known sexual predator…”

*-*-*

It had been the better part of two weeks since Hal Stewart had taken matters into his own hands and taught miss high-and-mighty Roxanne Ritchi a lesson about spurning the innocent advances of a nice guy. That he’d gotten away with it, and getting a month's severance pay for distress had been the cherry on top, letting him move out of Metro City on short notice and rent another small apartment in a town an hours drive away.

The stupid cops didn’t even question him, and that flying boy-scout hadn’t come looking for him. 

“I guess Mega-dork took the fall after all”, he chortled, pleased with himself as he drove his rusted out Chevette beater to the out of the way all-night diner he’d been given the address of.

It had taken over a week of cautious inquiry around the shadier parts of Metro City to make contact with people who could put him in touch with people who would buy the salacious video of a minor celebrity like Roxanne Ritchi, but when he teased them with a few stills painstakingly extracted from the tape, they became quite interested, offering him a cash deal in the low five figures, enough to live on while he set himself up, maybe producing similar tapes for discerning customers.

He parked his rolling death-trap, setting the parking brake and waited while the engine rattled itself into silence. Maybe he'd buy a nice little sports car to attract the babes with some of his money. Smiling at the thought, Hal slipped the folded manila envelope containing the video tape that was his ticket to easy street into his photographer's vest pocket, and got out of his car. It only took him three tries to get the driver's door to stay closed.

Six o’clock, on the nose. Just like he’d been told. And the parking lot was almost empty.

Hal strutted into the diner, humming to himself, assured he’d hit the jackpot, and took a seat on the grimy red vinyl-covered stool, second from the end of the counter farthest from the door, just as he’d been instructed, and waited to be contacted, eyeing the pies on display in the glass case on the chipped Formica countertop, ignoring the handful of long-haul truckers you’d expect to be patrons of such an establishment.

A barrel chested man in a pink polo shirt and dark navy jacket a decade out of style over white chinos, with a pronounced five o'clock shadow sat beside him a few minutes later, lit cigarette casually pinched in the first two fingers of his large right hand. “You McGrath?”

It took Hal a moment to recognize the pseudonym he’d chosen for this meeting, jumping slightly before responding. “Oh yeah, yeah! McGrath, that’s me! And you’re Mister…?”

“Nobody”, the annoyed response came. “I wasn’t here, and neither were you, capiche?”

Hal nodded jerkily.

“Got the product?”, his contact inquired.

The former cameraman nodded, smug, attempting to be suave. “Right here”, he patted the pocket with the envelope.

The contact put the lit cigarette to their lips, casually placing their own thick, folded-over envelope on the table, handed to them by a confederate Hal hadn’t seen enter the greasy spoon. “Is that the only copy?”

“Maybe…”, Hal insinuated.

“Look, shithead. We won’t be happy if we find out you're double-dealing with the competition. This is what you call an ‘exclusive contract', right?”

Hal swallowed nervously. “C-cool, right, no problem!”, he lied.

“Just hand over the tape, asshole.”

The envelope with the video of the assault of Roxanne Ritchi clattered onto the countertop, Hal snatching up the envelope that contained his payoff.

“A pleasure doing business with you!” ‘Suckers’, Hal thought to himself, starting to get up.

A heavy hand landed on Hal’s shoulder.

“Oh, we ain’t done, Mr. Stewart", the contact smiled, eyes as black and soulless as a hungry shark’s. “Y'see, you went and pissed off someone with connections. Siddown.”

Hal sat, a dreadful cold sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Now, Willie over there has a niece who works at Channel 8”, the contact informed Hal casually. “And Jimmie, the talented gentleman with his hand on your shoulder, well he don’t take kindly to guys who get handsy with young ladies, being he’s got two daughters of his own.”

The contact rose, moving to lock the restaurant's door and turn the ‘Open' sign to ‘Closed', before approaching Hal, putting a pair of burnished black leather gloves on his large hands.

“Willie had a little chat with his niece, and she told us all about how you treated the ladies at Channel 8.”

A bead of sweat slid down Hal's forehead.

“You know what sap gloves are, pervert?”

A frantic shake of his head made Hal's ginger curls bounce.

“They’re lined with powdered lead", the gangster smiled unpleasantly. “Gives ‘em more of a ‘zap' when you punch someone. A little fact you’re about to become very familiar with. Hold ‘im tight, Jimmie.”

“Not in the face!”, Hal pleaded, voice rising to a shriek, lifting his hands to protect himself.

The first punch landed in Hal's thick gut, winding him.

“Now, while we’re playing patty-cake…” Another blow. 

“Some friends of ours are dropping by your shitty little apartment…”

The third punch definitely bruised some of Hal's ribs.

“And they’re leaving behind a little house-warming gift…”

Two more jabbing punches. Hal was a ball of misery. “Please stop!”, he begged. “I’m sorry!”

The gangster’s grin terrified Hal. “Not yet you ain't.”


End file.
